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quitethepirategal · 3 years ago

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An Analysis in Threes

❥ TAGGED BY: @emcads like 30 years ago ❥ TAGGING: @riidcr @starsailingcaptain @covencrown @hookd @all-fleshed-out @evermxre @motherofredemption @bup1957 @conquistadoradelmar @seaprofound @tcthinecwnself @withinycu @windguided @daevilhorns @concordia-cum-sinistro and YOU and I spent like 8 hours on this so pLEASE READ IT PLEASE I AM BEGGING I NEED VALIDATION I’M-

repost don’t reblog. yall dont have to type this much.

MUSE: Captain Red Handed Jessica

Three Strengths:

Her adaptability and resourcefulness. Is she brave, yes. Is she lucky, also yes. But over all, she can roll with the cards she’s been dealt in a way that many would call inhumanly clever. Her intelligence, her perception, and her charisma are all different ingredients of this indomitable characteristic of hers. She can see the value in just about anything and anyone, can pick up on clues and tangents few others can follow, and can remember seemingly endless details, tho unfortunately not on command. But even then, her patchy memory seems to contribute to this adaptability as well, as it usually allows for detachment. If she can find resources everywhere, it means she can survive everywhere. There have been countless times where the wheel of fortune has suddenly turned on her and she’d lost near everything and her response was more or less Damn, ok I need food water and shelter lets go. No food? Grow food. No water? Ask someone if they have water. No shelter? Sleep outside. No money? Steal money. Can’t hear anymore? Cool I can use loud weapons. Crashed on an island? My island now. Shot? Free bullet. She knows when to push, she knows when to quit, and sometimes she knows when to gamble based on her ability ( what a man can do and what he can’t do and all that ). Strong she may be, she knows its foolish to rely on strength. Survival of the fittest actually rarely means survival of the strongest. ( edit; this is the theme for the entirety of her character. I will say it 50,000 times. I am very sorry ). And as a student of philosophy and biology, she understands that phrase better than most. Leading to our next point.

Her understanding. As I stated, her charisma is something unmatched, and is a key element in all three of her strengths. This charisma might not exist as prominently were it not for her ability to understand. She has limited ( I’ll get back to that ) but deep running empathy and while not terribly observant all the time, she is always perceptive. Not only that, but she’s personally known abuse, hardship, and uncertainty, and understands that hate or anger can be rooted in similar pain. She was schooled lightly in both Christian and Buddhist values before diving heavily into democratic philosophy, meaning she believes all being experience suffering and therefore kindness is a powerful sign of strength, but also that suffering while free and equal is better than comfort in oppression. And between her sweet words and beautiful face, she can get most people to open up in ways they themselves my not have expected. Being very good with people means she can learn from them, gain something from them, lead them, and/or use them. But Jessica isn’t a manipulator in truth; her intentions are almost always kind or healthy ones. She absolutely uses people from time to time but not EVER without them consenting to or being made aware of such because again, unlike a manipulative person, she understands that can ruin a relationship and therefore ruin a resource. What it makes for is an excellent leader, a beloved captain, and a trusted ally at most and an excellent conversationalist at the least. But her understanding isn’t just social, oh no. It’s academic as well. Armed only with his little library and the lessons of his own teachers, Jessica’s foster father tirelessly smithed her into a not just a girl who knew a lot of things, but a truly intelligent, thinking mind. He’d die before learning he’d succeeded tenfold. Jessica isn’t one to just except things as they are, facts or otherwise. She usually needs to prove it, experiment, see things from a new angle. Debates with her are fun! She has no issue admitting she’s wrong or confessing she’s never thought of it that way, and is actually wrong a lot of the time. It doesn’t bruise her ego, it excites her. It means there’s more to learn. And her ability to constantly understand new concepts paired with her ability to overwhelmingly understand people combine to make for a very powerful core idea of hers: We are fittest to survive because we all fit together. Our humanity, our empathy, our community are our strengths because they keep us united, which keeps us the fittest. No one is independent, no man is an island. People are power. And thus her final strength is just that.

Her power. While she and I still firmly state that strength isn’t everything don’t be disillusioned; its very goddamn important. And it’s something Jessica has plenty of. She is durable and clever because of her rocky early childhood, she is quick and versatile from her youth in a pirate port, she is physically strong and mighty from her years training in martial arts, and she’s an absolute crackshot after years of diligent practice with her trusty pistols. Her true strength may lie in her brains and in her allies yes, but even without them, Red Jessica is a powerhouse of a warrior. She can end fights extremely quickly or run from them without a prayer of catching her ( no shame in the later, both skills keep you alive ). And it may be in bad taste to say, but ever since loosing most of her hearing, Jess swears up and down it’s made her vision better, her reaction time faster, and her quick thinking even quicker. Yes of course she’s slowed down with age, but a bullet shoots at the same speed no matter how old you are. And you best hope she didn’t bring her firecrackers, because while sudden loud noises will absolutely temporarily discombobulate or debilitate an opponent with healthy hearing, it’ll hardly effect her at all and suddenly, you’re a sitting duck. You see those thighs? You see those calves? She can crush PINEAPPLES with them! People have seen her do it! Do you know how many micro-fractures broke and rebuilt those hands? Thousands! She can crush a trachea like a fucking beer can! She can kick you to death! One ill placed curb stomp and you are DECEASED. Sometimes she’ll just psyche you out because she KNOWS you know she can kill your stupid ass! But while her strength, mental and physical, have always been there, her power is relatively new. As stated before, people are power. Not knowledge, not money, not strength. People. She’s a fearsome warrior but she’d be useless if outnumbered. Shes a very successful pirate, but she’d never make it out of port without a crew on her ship. She found a gorgeous island, but it’d still be wild without those who built it’s piers and buildings. She manages orchards and tends to them and harvests them herself, but she would loose all of her crop without the helping hands of her employed farmers. And like I mentioned, she deeply understands this. Freedom is not independence or vice versa. Did you make the clothes on your back or the fabric that made those clothes? Did you write the books you read to make you smarter or teach you that skill? Did you plant the seed years ago that grew that orange you’re eating? No, of course not. Jessica didn’t either. Another human did. We all need each other to fill the holes in our lives that we can’t fill ourselves. Humans are puzzle pieces in that way, there is no bigger picture or prayer for survival on our own. And because of this, we can do anything we as a community, as a SPECIES work together to achieve. There is no knowledge if there’s no one to learn from, there is no money if a society don’t give it value, your money is worthless if those you’re paying decide to rise against you, your role as leader only exists at the consent of those you lead, and your strength won’t save you from a sinking ship. People are, and always will be, power. And as someone who is exceptionally strong and exceedingly smart, Jessica has slotted herself in the humanity puzzle thusly: The strong exist to protect the weak, the smart exist to educate, and the lucky exist so the unlucky may be given aid. And it is with this fairness and compassion that she has won the trust of so many. She has a great many friends and allies even outside of those in her crew or on her island. And she can make many more with ease. That kind of power is not a power to be trifled with, even if she can kick your ass six ways to Saturday without it.

Three Weaknesses:

She suffers ADHD. Now before ANY OF Y’ALL SAY ANYTHING, I myself also suffer ADHD. And yes I do say suffer because well that’s what it causes for Jessica and I, suffering. Yes, it is ableist language to say ‘suffering from’ rather than ‘has’ or ‘is diagnosed with’ and yes it perpetuates a stigma against us but god DAMN IT in both Jessica’s case and mine, it make life much much harder than it needs to be. At the end of the day, Red Jessica is a fantasy of mine; I pour myself into her whether I mean to or not. She’s the adult I wish I was, the person I might be if I had no anxiety, or brainfog, or lived in a world were I didn’t need a credit score or a degree. And even then, I can’t say I know anyone else’s problems better than my own. So if my character has problems, by sheer osmosis they are going to reflect some of mine. Both of the characters I write have ADHD because I have ADHD and I couldn’t even begin to know how a non-ADHD mind works to write it properly. And no, I’m not being dramatic when I say it causes me suffering. I can’t drive, I can’t hold down a job, I nearly flunked out of school, I still cant read very fast or spell very well, I am constantly overwhelmed by mundane things, I’m a slow learner, I forget very important things or recent things, I forget about things that mean the world to me, I forget about people, I stumble through tasks, I procrastinate hobbies and basic hygiene, and everything I do takes all goddamn day and I can only really do one important thing at a time and in order of importance. If I have a date at 4pm, I’m dressed and ready at 11am because I’ve gotta do the important thing first or else I will forget to do the important thing. I started typing this at a little before 5pm. It’s 7;30. It’ll probably be 10 o’clock at night by the time I fucking finish ( edit: l m a o its 1am bitch you thought ). I’m 26 and am just medicated enough to barely function. So yeah. Suffering is the word. Though for Jessica, perhaps suffering is a tad strong of a word. Her ADHD affects her ability to function in far less debilitating ways ( though whether that’s a result of a less severe diagnosis than me or the result of the society, situations, and responsibilities she functions in and around are far different from mine, who’s to say ). For her, she has very consuming hyperfixations that can last anywhere between weeks to decades, a spotty memory that is detail and memento oriented, she’s scatterbrained more often then not but can focus with amazing clarity on her interests or in high adrenaline situations, is is ABYSMALLY bad at math and EXCRUCIATINGLY bad with numbers ( as opposed to me, who is good at numbers but shit at spelling or reading ), she can forget anything no matter how important it is to her or to anyone, she’s bad with names and dates, is COMPLETELY time-blind, has trouble prioritizing, and of course, wile not actually that materialistic, she absolutely has the ol’ magpie instinct. While her poor memory assists in her adaptability and ability to move on, it also means she forgets things she needed to remember, like when the last time she bathed was and who this person is and what happened between her and someone else or what conversation’s shes had. Unfortunately this means she’s a very good friend and leader... while you’re around and interacting with her on at least a weekly basis. It’s almost a lack of object permanence in both a social and very real sense. If something is not right in front of her, odds are she’s not going to think about it. And while its something she constantly kicks herself for and actively tries to be better about, it applies to people too. Face to face is the best way to interact with her; she won’t think to write you and in her modern verse she won’t think to ever call and she’ll text you back in perhaps a few days. She doesn’t value you any less, I promise. She’s just either distracted or overwhelmed. Also, for someone as understanding as her, she is surprisingly self-centered. Not selfish, self-centered. She’ll talk about herself more than she should, and will assume people understand that she’s doing so as a form of showing empathy rather than bragging when they may not know this at all. Actually she accidentally assumes all the time. It was far worse when her hearing was functional; she’d finish your sentence for you or guess what it was you were going to say ( again, not to talk over, you but to show she understands you and the conversation, tho it usually came of as annoying or patronizing ). Sometimes she mistakenly assumes you believe or know the same things she does without even realizing it. Maybe she perceives the right idea off of someone but isn’t observant enough to notice anything past that. And while she is willing to change her mind about things, she might change her mind a tad too quickly. She’s an over-sharer and is horrible at keeping any kind of secret. Romantic relationships tend to fizzle out. Her impulse control is improving but has a VERY long way to go. She’s always chasing something new. All and all, when you’re a pirate, a librarian, or even a captain, all of these things may be irritating and inconvenient, but are overall manageable in chunks. ...But as a governor to her island, as a leader of an entire population... oof. In the position of leadership that she’s in, she can’t afford to make too many massive mistakes, and she knows this. ‘There is no power quite like the power of being underestimated’ is a phase you’ll hear her say a lot but for her, there is a shift in connotation. If people expect less and you do more that’s a great upper hand in any situation but for her, it was a safety net. Having ADHD sometimes means going months or years being fine and then eventually you fuck up and everyone around you wonders how in the world you managed to do that. She has only barely avoided disaster more times than she’d like to admit. Even with the resourcefulness, the understanding, and the power she wields, she’s finally starting to realize that she’s bit off more than she might be able to chew, with the entire well-beings and livelihoods of others on the line. And she fears that one day she’ll play her cards wrong and everything she’d built, everything she’s done, will all come crashing down in ruin.

She is Hard of Hearing. This one is literally as simple as it sounds: she has moderate and degenerative hearing loss and tinnitus after years of canons, explosions, gunshots, and a definitive, scale tipping attack in her early 30s. Her ears just don’t work at all like they used to. The whole world sounds like it would if everything was underwater: she can’t pin point the location of sounds, how far off or close sounds are, and barely registers changes in volume. And it only gets worse the older she gets; one day she won’t hear anything at all. And while yes, again, it might be very harsh and ableist to say, the truth of the matter that being deaf a “ weakness ” more often than its a strength. That said, it very well can be a strength. I’ve already mentioned that trick with the firecrackers and let me tell you it is a DAMN EFFECTIVE TRICK. Shes around explosions and canons and guns all the time and now she can focus while being around them five times better than she could in the past! But unfortunately it also means she’s very easy to sneak up on, she sometimes isn’t aware of danger until it’s nearly too late, no one can get her attention or warn her across any distance, it’s very easy to escape from her, and it’s easy for her to be just... left out of things. She might hear you talking, but she has little to no idea what you’re saying without sign or lipreading. Some people don’t have the patience or even just the courtesy to speak slower, or clearer, or repeat themselves a lot. Though, those last too thinks aren’t weaknesses of hers so much as they are the weakness of others, but they still negatively affect her self esteem and her effectiveness as a leader. All of this has taught her to pick her battles carefully, and plan around the elements of surprise and discombobulation. And while communication was tricky at first, it only got easier, and now she can talk to you almost like anyone can, so long as she’s looking you in the face.

That damn bleeding heart. We have established a number of things that should easily add up to an overly empathetic, trusting, fight-the-good-fight, martyr-some, idealistic pushover; she believes humanity and kindness are strengths, she has taken on the role of leader and then a provider, she has known suffering and tasked herself with ending the suffering of others to the best of her ability, she lacks the clarity of mind to assume people aren’t just as good or capable as her automatically, she can have poor impulse control at times, she wants to have relationships, and ( while I never stated this outright yet it can be inferred ), she believes that being able to see yourself in others is the foundation of humanity and ( as i did say outright ) humanity is what keeps us unified and unity is what makes us fit and strong. Keeping up? Good. Here’s the curve ball: How can she whole hardheartedly preach and believe all of this, to the point of it being the foundation of her character, WHILE BEING A VIOLENT THIEVING AND BLOODTHIRSTY PIRATE?! HOW, MANGO? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!! Ok, fine, sure, I will. I’m sure about one half of you are looking up from the screen and going “ Oh yeah, wow I totally forgot that bit. “ and the other half got about two and a half paragraphs in before squinting and silently calling bullshit. So let me explain. In short, she’s a detached hypocrite and is well aware and unashamed of her hypocrisy while far less aware of her detachment. I’ll cover both: Western culture as a whole seems to be under the impression that hypocrisy, despite context or importance, is automatically bad. I don’t know where this comes from personally ( my bet is Christianity but I have exactly 0 evidence ) but its a very... flawed idea. Take the freedom of speech vs racism problem; say you owned a bar where all could speak their mind freely over cold drinks. Excellent concept without context, right? Sure. ....Then a die hard racist covered in slurs and symbols walks in and orders- what are you going to do? The correct answer is to throw him out instantly. Not let him sit so long as he doesn’t cause trouble, not just ignore him and hope he doesn’t return, you throw him out. Is it hypocritical? Yep! Sure is! But it is also 100% necessary to protect your other patrons because if you don’t, the racist starts feeling safe and bringing his racist buddies, literally everyone else starts feeling unsafe and starts to hang out elsewhere, and two months later, ta da! You now own a n*zi bar and there is literally nothing you can do about it. Jessica is in a somewhat similar situation. You as a pretend bar owner need to make a decision as who to let into your bar and who to throw out for the good of all of your patrons. Jessica too is faced daily with that decision. If she want’s to help as many people as possible, the only realistic way she can do that are by protecting those under her leadership... only. She is surrounded by hateful, angry, sneaky, traitorous, abusive, or otherwise evil people. Piracy as a profession and poverty in general can do that to a person. Of course there is a clear difference between those down on their luck and desperate, and the truly cruel and twisted, but unfortunately both types of people yield the same wrongdoings. It’s absolutely her nature to extend a hand to anyone and everyone but.... she just can’t anymore. Too many times has her trust been betrayed, too many times has she gotten in peoples business trying to be helpful, only for her to absolutely bite her in the ass. Too many time the extended hand is bitten and once or twice, she’s actually made things worse. Now, she will only help someone she loves, someone under her leadership, or someone who seeks her out. That’s it. And even then, sometime it manages to bite er in the ass. But she had to set that hard limit for herself out of necessity, one she does her absolute best to adhere too and... these days she adheres a little too well. That leads us to our next point; what I was alluding to at the beginning of her Understanding essay when I said she has limited but deep running empathy. That detachment again, courtesy of a very unattached mother and unchecked ADHD. ( It isn’t a strong enough characteristic to even rank as a strength or a weakness but damn if it isn’t an undercurrent to a lot of her motivations and experiences. ) Strangers are fair game that she tries to ignore, but if she even perceives you as a threat, you could be in danger. Like anyone used to violence or perhaps anyone trapped in an us verses them mindset, she can just... flat... turn her empathy off. Not on command, she’s not a socio or psychopath persay. But she has become totally numb to the horror of violence via her warrior upbringing that, in her mind, violence can actually be rather fun. Pair that with the fact that she purposely tailored herself to only be empathetic to her allies and boom. You get a kindhearted killer. Cops and soldiers in our world do it literally every day. Actually anyone can do it really, even you if you tried. You don’t have to be evil or even angry to kill or steal or lie... you just have to believe you’re right.

Three Secrets:

WHAT SECRETS?! LMAO this bitch is the oversharing queen!! I’ve been typing and pondering her character for literal hours ( its currently 11:16, fuck you adderall ), and I still can not think of a single goddamn secret. There is nothing about her that at least five random people don’t fucking know about!! The only secrets she has are secrets she knows about other people and even then she is!! literally the worst!! She spills her guts left and right and yet she wants to be a mysterious bitch SO BAD like BABE I love you, you’re precious, but you are a dumbass attention seeking validation chasing adhd CLOWN girl!! Stop telling random people about your hermaphroditism or your dairy allergy or your dead dad or that time you fell asleep in a barrel like that is literally your uber driver Jessica honey come ooooon. I’m skipping this section mom holy fuck.

Three Fears:

What if she does wrong by everyone who trusts her? As stated at the end of the ADHD essay, she’s terrified of failing those she leads. Where it as simple as personal failure, she’d be fine. Ever if her entire world came crashing down on top of her she’d either die or start back from square one. Death is a fact of life and her adaptability means she can just dust herself off and move on, so neither her death nor her failures really scare her... But it isn’t just her life and happiness at stake, is it? Not anymore, right? What started as a leader of a small gang of rebels became a full crew, then a crew became a slew of allies, then those allies built a town and now... now she’s the governor of the Crimson Isle and there are nearly twenty five HUNDRED lives at her mercy. HER mercy. One really, really bad mistake could ruin their livelihoods or spark disorder and disloyalty. And if she died? Would whoever it is that will take her place be as good to them as she is? Is she good enough to begin with in the first place? Every day the paperwork gets a little bit thicker, every year there’s a new baby or two. And the isle has fertile soil sure but will it last? Are they prepared for a raid or a hurricane? And if Jessica trusts the wrong people, where her people right to trust her? ...can I protect them? Can I protect them?! CAN I PROTECT THEM?!

Who am I if I’m not interesting? This is, literally, an entirely subconscious fear. She’s not at all aware it exists and therefor this entry is short. But between her short time with her very unimpressed mother, her own ADHD, she is constantly hungry for attention without even realizing it. She must be interesting and intriguing and engaging, and I did mention she wants to also be mysterious. She wants not so much your input or even your validation - but rather if shes not perceived then.... is she really there? Remember, she is unaware of any of this. And fortunately she’d never been starved for attention to act out over it in the first place, even when her disinterested mother was alive. Look at her; she’s radiant, she’s beautiful, and she’s 6′4 / 195 cm shredded and covered in cool scars. Without even opening her mouth, without even her colorful clothes, she’s kind of automatically interesting. So she’s never been so desperate for attention that she acts out because she’s never been without it for very long. But it’s there. Hungry, aching, silent. Those years after the M branding were horrible and she could never really explain why. She still throws parties, organizes festivals, and talks to damn near anyone who will listen. Look at my art! Look at my library! Listen to how much I know! Let me tell you how lovely you are! Look at my scares! Look at my hair! Look at me haha, please, please look at me.

GHOSTS. NOPE. No. NO. Fuck ALL of that noise. Stay dead, go to hell, eat a dick. Red Jessica is a scientist and superstitious atheist. As an academic and somewhat bi-cultural woman she simply thinks there are far too many religions with far too much history for any of them to be considered The One True Thing You Must Believe Or ElseTM and she tends to not truly believe anything until she finds some kind of proof. Shes not afraid of the unknown, shes thrilled by it. She’s not afraid of death or the afterlife, that’s beyond her control. She’s only superstitious because she does believe in and value luck, and also its a bit of a cultural habit. BUT IF SOME SHIT STARTS MOVING ON ITS OWN OR IF SHE SEES SOME BULLSHIT IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE THEN SHE IS OUT OF THERE. OUTIE 5000. She has heard the tales of lost souls from purgatory or the eternally ravenous Pret or dangerous Phi Tai Hong or the tragic and startling Banshees or the creepy Santa Compana and she wouldn’t believe a word of it where it not for one thing. SHE FUCKING SAW ONE. She’ll never forget it, it was the first and last time she EVER attempted to plunder a tomb all Skyrim style and at first she thought it was one of the crewmean being creepy as shit until she got a good look and he was SEE THROUGH AS SHIT AND SKINNY AS FCUK AND SHE GOT LITERALLY CHASED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT JOINT. She does not CARE that some ghosts are just apparitions she does not CARE that some are friendly and trying to warn her of something if you are MOVING and DEAD at the SAME time get FUCKED. If any of y’all cringe try-hards bring a Ouija board to the party you are getting SENT HOME and BLOCKED. NO CAP.

Three Goals:

She really only has one left. Listen its... almost 1am and ive been typing since like 5pm i think i covered goals somewhere in here but ive gotta throw in the towel but even then I’m kinda being serious. Her only remaining goal is to find a suitable heir of some kind. She wants what she’s built to fall into worthey hands but she could never seem to find a good parter and even when she did she couldn’t sustain a pregnancy ( you’d think that would be a huge deal but it hardly mattered to her oddly ). So at 50 the option of having kids is out but there’s still plenty of hope for either adoption or a protege. But then again, she’s so busy these days that she hardly prioritizes it like she wants to.

holy shit i need some water...

#i.... i did it.. its done.. its DONE #...this took my entire saterday #i will literally pay yall actuall dollars to read all of this please... it took so long i dont want it to be for nothing qwq #x; EVER PLAYED CRAZY EIGHTS? { dash games }#x; QUITE THE PIRATE GAL { portrait }#x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta }

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hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong · 4 years ago

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The kids pt 2

BB: we're back all you weirdos that enjoy senpai's blog! Here again to show you the kiddos with this convoluted lore dump of post Chaldea life for senpai and his family!

Mari: please, stop talking in such a stupid way...

BB, ignoring her: a lots happen since the last time we did this! We even learned where lovely lil Maria's name came from. And daaaaww, wasn't that a sweet story?

Ed: BB, can we please get started? Sis is eyeing that water bottle and I'm afraid of what she'll do with it and our computer if you don't hurry.

BB: fine fine! Dang Mari you are just no fun huh? Anyways, just like before we're discussing the others who got a second chance at life and how they're viewed through the eyes of these two! So who first? How about, my lil darlings! The first 3 members of the Sakura 5!

Mari: why only the first 3?

BB: spoilers!

Mari: stupid. Well we've seen that Melt became a famous ice skating performer. We don't see her much but the few times we do it's pretty nice.

Ed: sometimes she acts like a big shot celebrity out in the open, but she seems more humble around us.

BB: yeah, that's melty for ya. I gave her a good amount of tsun! Have you seen the picture of her before this tho?

Mari: yeah... pretty weird. Why did you give her huge blades for legs and no hands?

BB: I guess it's just a part of my twisted lil personality!

Ed: and you wonder why Mom wants you gone from our computers.

Mari: and Lip seems happy, she's found love with someone, and her partner seems to truly love her. So that's nice.

Ed: and she's changed even more from before. No huge metal claws and a slimmer body.

Mari: again, wtf BB?

BB: pls stop asking me questions.

Ed: and Protea is also happily in a more normal body then before. But for her it was just too big.

Mari: she still acts like a Kaiju sometimes.

BB: yes, those three are in such happy lives. As their mother I'm so happy for them.

Mari: stop lying or I'm pouring root beer all over the computer.

BB: do not! Moving devices is a pain in the ass!

BB: *sigh* anyways, whose next? Hmmm... what about lil miss Gorgon?

Mari: we don't see her much, the only times we do she's forcefully dragged by mom and her friends.

Ed: and she's always hiding her face and such. She has self esteem issues for some reason.

BB: yeah, and those reasons are called "Stheno" and "Euryale"

Mari: such shitty sisters. Where do they get off messing with 'Dusa about her height?

BB: who knows?

Ed: she isn't even that tall... mom's taller and she's never self conscious.

BB: have you not heard the heaps of praise your father gives her about that?! It's so much I get sick hearing it!

Mari: oh be quiet! What I wouldn't give to have such a beautiful relationship!

Ed: woah! This is the first time hearing you say something like that!

Mari: ...well yeah... when I was young I kinda did that silly kid thing of being grossed out by their affection. It was so much I honestly thought they overdid it in front of us just to mess with us. But growing up... and seeing them still like that and the old videos from Chaldea and how everyone else talks about them... that's real genuine love! I hope one day to find a partner like that.

Ed: yeah, I'm so happy we were born into a genuinely loving family! Sometimes I hear stories of kids born because their parents thought it'd save their relatives, when they should've gone to therapy or something instead!

BB: this conversations nice and all but can we get back on topic? It's almost time for you to walk the lil mutts.

Mari: right... now who?

BB: well speaking of mutts, what about that lil dog Lobo?

Ed: lil!? He's huge! Biggest wolf I've ever seen!

Mari: and they said he was bigger back in chaldea too! Like holy crap!

BB: yeah, he got huge.

Mari: now he's at this wolf sanctuary and seems to be fine with humans now.

Ed: yeah, and he's found a nice mate again. White just like La Blanca!

Mari: you think he used his grail wish to be reunited with her? And she's the same wolf?

BB: why wouldn't that be cute? Anyways, let's do one last servant. Hmmm... actually! Why don't you talk about your dear 'ol mother?

Mari: mom? OK, I guess technically that'd fit.

Ed: well after she reincarnated she became a famous luchadora! She was an unstoppable force in the ring!

Mari: yeah, she was unbeatable! Never suffering a single defeat for her whole career!

BB: buuuuut! She retired! Care to say why?

Ed: well... after she became pregnant with us... she had to leave the ring.

Mari: and... the responsibility of taking care of us didn't allow for time to return to fighting... so she hasn't come back since.

BB: yeah, that's the thing about childcare, it can get in the way of other things.

???: BB, you better not be messing with the children!

Mari: oh hey mom!

Ed: what's going on?

Quetz: it's time to walk the dogs, come on your father's already outside!

Mari: crap! Sorry!

Ed: we're going now!

After the kids went out, Quetz had more words for the ai.

Quetz: you just can't help but try to mess around huh?!

BB: all I did was tell the truth! Can't control their reactions!

Quetz: do this again and I'm burning every device you've been in! I don't care if we lose some data, you're gone if you go too far!

BB: fine! Don't need to take it that far!

Quetz: this is you were dealing with here

Rex, from outside: mi corazon! Come on!

Quetz: coming!

Quetz then goes outside to join the family

A/N: more of the kiddos. Along with what Quetz got up to in between this and Chaldea. BB can get a bit too Mischievous at times.

Tags

@hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @hasabbydoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @nureenarts @kierakaz @valiantstrawberrymilk

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #rexcoatl #rex #mastersona #maria #eduardo #bb

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years ago

Text

Rewind Chapter 4 - Fiddleford to the Rescue

Stan started when there was a sharp knocking at the front door. He hadn’t thought anyone was coming – but evidently Ford had known, because he jumped up to let them in. The person who stepped inside was a twig of a man, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The guy looked pretty tired – sorta like those people who sometimes slept under the jetty with bloodshot eyes and cans scattered around them. But this man didn’t reek of beer and cigarettes. Blue eyes darted around behind thick glasses before landing on Stan and softening.

“Ah. This is your brother, I ‘spect?” The stranger spoke with a thick accent. Stan hadn’t heard an accent like his before.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Ford was a flurry of motion, darting here and there and packing things in a big shoulder bag. “I need to go, I have to get this barrier up as soon as possible. I should be back by this evening. There’s food in the fridge, I’m not sure what bills I’ve paid recently so there may or may not be hot water, and Stanley, behave!”

With that Ford disappeared, the front door slamming behind him. Stan froze, voice squeaking in a totally cool and manly way.

“Wait – Ford? Where are you-”

Yeah, he was already gone. Leaving Stan alone with this strange man. Stan stood self-consciously in the middle of the lounge, hyper aware of those eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The stranger broke the silence first, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Stan. “You must be Stanley. I guess Ford forgot ta introduce us. Wouldn’t be the first thing ‘e forgot.” The guy smiled a slightly crooked smile and held out one hand. “I’m Fiddleford, an old… friend of ya brother’s. I’m here to look after ya for a while. Is that okay?”

“…I guess so.” Stan stepped forward hesitantly to shake the man’s hand. Despite its thinness his hand was rough and calloused, worn with work. His smile was infectious and Stan found himself mirroring it. “You can call me Stan. Everyone does.”

“Well then, you can call me Fidds.” Fiddleford’s bright eyes combed over him for a moment before the man started riffling through his duffel bag. “Now, I got some old clothes of my son’s that I figure will fit better than that shirt. You wanna give it a shot?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Who’s your son? Is he coming too?”

“No, Tate’s in California right now.” The man lifted a couple items of clothing. “Alright, let’s take a looksee at what we got.”

Stanford’s little brother was cute as a button. Well, twin brother apparently, not that that made much of a difference right now. The boy was all gap-toothed grins and twinkling eyes and curious questions. Fiddleford let him choose some clothes he liked – a pirate shirt and a pair of faded yellow shorts – and helped the little kid get dressed. Stan chatted excitedly the whole time.

“S’weird! I just woke up here yesterday and Ford was all old. He’s grumpier now too. So if this is the future how do we know you? When do I meet you? We probably haven’t met yet while I’m this age right? No, I think I’d remember seein’ you even if you were a kid like me! You got a mem-or-ab-le nose. Kinda like mine!” Stan poked his own pink nose to demonstrate. “’Cept mine and Ford’s are wide and yours is long. Does your son have the same nose?”

Fiddleford laughed and slipped the shirt over the squirming boy’s head. There were so many questions, he figured he’d try and answer them in order.

“Ford is grumpy now, isn’t he? And I’m a friend of Ford’s from college. This is the first time we’ve met at all, so you wouldn’t know me even as an adult with all yer memories. And Tate does have my nose, unfortunately.”

Stan blinked up at him owlishly. Fiddleford smoothed down his ruffled cowlick. “So… you know Ford but not me? Why doesn’t future-me know you?” Then Stan shook his head with a smile. “You said college, right? I bet that’s why! Pa says I’m too stupid for college. But o’course Ford got in. He’s real smart, ya know!” The kid finished proudly. Fiddleford hesitated.

“Your father says…” Stanford hadn’t spoken much of his family. Fiddleford was starting to see why. The idea of a man telling his son – his son who couldn’t be any older then twelve – that he was stupid filled his chest with fire.

Fiddleford tried to stamp out the anger before Stan could see it on his face. No sense in scaring the child. Instead he changed the subject, carefully poking at one of Stan’s hands.

“So, ya got hands like ya brother’s?”

“Oh, no, I just got the borin’ five fingers.” Stan waggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Really?” Well that was interesting. “But yer practically identical otherwise! Well, I guess it makes sense that yer not totally the same, seein’ as you don’t have the same eyesight anyway.”

“Oh, we do.” Stan chirped, leaving Fiddleford flabbergasted.

“But ya don’t have glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I don’t need em ‘cause I’m not smart.” Stan’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. “Pa says glasses are expensive and Ford needs his, so I don’t. Hey, you got glasses too! You must be smart.”

Fiddleford once again tried very hard to not let his anger show. He must not have done a very good job, because Stan shrank back.

“Er – I’m sorry?”

Darn it, and he’d been trying to get the little tyke to trust him! Fiddleford forced an apologetic smile on his face.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. I was just thinkin’ I’d like to have a word with yer brother when he gets back.”

Stan still looked dubious, so Fiddleford tried another strategy.

“You know, I reckon Ford’s gotta have a spare set of glasses lying around. Do you wanna look for ‘em, borrow ‘em for a while? The prescription should be close enough. I got some old books a’ Tates you might like and it’ll be easier if you can see ‘em.”

Stan twisted his hands together. “I dunno. Ford got pretty mad when I messed with his stuff before.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m just as adult as him. I think I can make decisions without that worrywart around.”

Just as Fiddleford had thought he would, Stan laughed. “Yeah, he is a worrywart! An’ Ford’s let me borrow his glasses before when we were switchin’ clothes to play a prank on Crampelter. So he can’t get mad now!”

The kid seemed to have immediately forgotten about his upset. That made Fiddleford’s smile come a little easier, a little warmer.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about we go look for those glasses? And we’ll see if you like any a’ these books. Ya feel like learnin’ about isopods?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Stan whooped.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

_______________________________________________________________

It was nice, Fiddleford reflected, having a child around. He hadn’t interacted with kids since he’d last seen Tate. How long ago had that been…?

Fiddleford made sandwiches for lunch, and they ate while flipping through picture books. Stan especially liked the one with krill and whale sharks. Then the kid had started telling delightful stories about old ships and adventures on Glass Shard Beach, and who was Fiddleford to interrupt?

By evening Stan had worn himself out, and Fiddleford made him a cup of hot chocolate while he decided what to fix for dinner. Of course Ford had little in the way of food. There was some frozen and tinned stuff, but little in the way of healthy foods. Stanford was terrible at taking care of himself.

Fiddleford glanced out of the window at the ever-darkening sky. Sure, he was still hopping mad at Stanford, but… he couldn’t help but worry. Not when the man had been gone all day in the snow. And when his adorable little brother was getting antsy.

“Fidds, when’s Ford gettin’ back?” Stan whined, right on time. “You said he’d be back soon.”

Fiddleford busied himself with looking in the fridge. There were some assorted vegetables lying around, wrinkled with age but not rotten – he could make fritters. Satisfied, he started gathering the ingredients.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Fiddleford rooted around until he found a grater. Stan sulked into his hot chocolate. He certainly had Stanford’s stubbornness! Fiddleford wondered if it was a family trait.

As if on cue, there was a commotion outside the front door. Fiddleford tensed. It swung open, and thankfully a familiar figure trudged inside.

“Ford!” Stan squealed in delight. He scrambled from the kitchen table to throw himself at his brother’s legs. Ford, looking snow-flecked and rather frazzled, patted his head absently.

“Yes, yes, hello Stanley. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and continued making the fritters. Trust Stanford to make a dramatic entrance. Still, he eyed the man as he took off his snow-covered coat and boots. Stanford looked… rough. Not physically, but exhaustion was etched into every line on his face.

Fiddleford tutted and poured the man a coffee. Ford blinked as it was pushed into his hand.

“Oh – thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Didja meet the unicorn?” Stan pulled on his brother’s shirt, his own tiredness evidently forgotten in his excitement. Ford sighed.

“Yes, though she still stubbornly refuses to give me any of her hair. I did manage to obtain the rest of the ingredients though, so as soon as I get the hair I’ll be able to ward the house.”

Unicorn hair? Fiddleford was confused for all of two seconds before he shrugged it off. With Stanford, everything was a surprise. You just learned to roll with it.

And now that Ford was here…

“Stan, wouldja do me a favour?” Fiddleford asked gently. Stan nodded. “There should be a blanket up in the closet upstairs, all red and gold with snowflakes printed on it. It’s my favourite one. Could you go get it for me?”

“Sure.” Stan chirped, darting out of the room. Ford made a sound of confusion.

“I don’t remember that blanket.”

“’Course ya don’t, I made it up as an excuse to get Stan out of the room.” Fiddleford put down the grater and turned to meet Ford’s wary gaze from across the kitchen bench.

“…okay.” Ford said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford fixed him with a serious look. “Yer little brother’s a good kid.”

Ford sighed. “Twin brother. We’re twenty-seven.”

“Well right now he’s just seven. And you’d better not mess ‘im up. I’m watchin’ you.” He added with narrowed eyes.

Ford laughed nervously. “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“A scientist who’s obsessed with his work and has no idea how to care for a child, ‘specially not a child who’s been abused.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Abused? I can assure you that Stanley hasn’t been abused.”

“I beg to differ!” Fiddleford said sharply. Ford had the audacity to look insulted. “With what the kid’s been tellin’ me, there’s no way he hasn’t been abused. For god’s sake, he doesn’t have glasses when he needs ‘em! And ‘e flinches when I so much as raise my voice – or my hand, for that matter. E’s got bruises all over, too. What am I supposed to think?”

“Stanley… he refuses to wear his glasses.” Ford said weakly. Fiddleford snorted.

“He’s been usin’ yer spare ones all day. Says ‘e likes bein’ able to see for once. In fact, he basically said yer father refused to buy ‘im glasses after his old pair got broken!”

“He’s been wearing my-?”

“Of course you didn’t notice. Have ya even laid eyes on the kid?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you did notice him wearin’ your spare glasses? No wonder ‘e thinks he’s stupid, he can’t read the words on a page two inches from his nose!”

Ford looked devastated. Right now, Fiddleford didn’t care. “But… no, that’s not right. Stanley always told me he hated wearing them.”

“Even besides that, what about the bruises?” Fiddleford challenged. “The kid’s covered in ‘em. And I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt here, because I don’t believe you’re the one who’s been roughin’ him up.”

“I – I-”

“So you’ll forgive me for bein’ a little concerned here! What kinda father would I be if I just sat back and ignored this? Yer brother’s been abused, plain and simple.”

Ford floundered. Fiddleford sighed, a little of his anger evaporating.

“Well... I suppose if ya are really twins, ya probably wouldn’t have had a hand in it. An’ I don’t know the full story. But I do know this.” He leveled a finger at Ford’s face. “That kid trusts ya, more than he probably should. An’ we’re gonna have words if you hurt him, or put him in danger, or do anything that’ll cause him harm. The boy’s suffered enough, I’ll not stand around and let it happen again. Ya understand?”

“Yes.” Stanford said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now that’s outta the way, I gotta ask; why on earth didja not tell me about him before? We went to visit Shermie and his kids during that Christmas break a while back an’ no one mentioned another brother.”

Stanford flushed. “It’s… a family matter.”

Fiddleford leveled a cold stare at him. After a moment Ford sighed and averted his gaze.

“When we were teenagers Stanley sabotaged my one chance at getting into my dream college. He says it was an accident, but… anyway our father kicked him out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Fiddleford held up a hand. “Hang on. Are my ears decievin’ me? You’re telling me your brother, who got booted outta his own home as a teenager, hasn’t been mistreated? My friend, you’ve got issues.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by Stan’s return. Fiddleford turned his attention to the sheepish boy who was currently wringing his hands and wincing at the doorway. “Um, sorry Fidds. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, I musta left it somewhere else. Now, didja wanna help me with makin’ dinner?”

Stan perked up at Fiddleford’s breezy tone, as if surprised he wasn’t in trouble. “Jeez! Can I?”

“Well sure, why wouldn’t you?” Fiddleford flashed the boy a smile. Stan beamed in return and scrambled to join him in the kitchen.

“Pa says cookin’s for ladies and we shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, your Pa seems to be wrong about a lotta things. Now, you know how ta use a grater? I’ll show you.”

Fiddleford could feel Ford’s gaze searing into his forehead. He flicked his attention up from Stan and cooking, just for a moment, to catch the conflicted stare. Ford looked away when their eyes met and cleared his throat.

“I’ll just – um – put these ingredients away for later.”

“You do that.” Fiddleford agreed coolly.

Stanford walked away, more subdued than usual. The sight of his slumped shoulders was enough to send a spark of guilt through Fiddleford’s chest. He knew he was being too hard on the guy – especially with how wrecked Ford was looking – but his blood boiled for this gap-toothed child with his cute curls and nervous laughs.

Fiddleford couldn’t comprehend the idea of kicking out his son. The idea was as foreign to him as the idea that they should all put sticks of butter under their hats and walk on their hands instead of their feet. Tate was his son – his boy, his child. Fiddleford was sure that there was nothing Tate could do that would made Fiddleford throw him out. The idea of Stanley and Stanford’s father kicking out a helpless teen? No matter what mess that teen had gotten himself into, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in him.

No, and it most certainly wouldn’t happen again. No kid was getting kicked out on his watch. Nor hurt, even unintentionally by an oblivious scientist of a brother. Fiddleford would make sure of it.

He made sure both the Pines boys were fed before packing up his things with the promise of returning tomorrow. Stanley hugged his legs with a surprisingly strong grip – Fiddleford crouched down to return the hug properly.

“I had a real good time today. We’ll have to do this again some time, huh? Now, you got my phone number? Good. Call me if you need anything. Especially if that brother of yours gets into any trouble, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Stan saluted enthusiastically. Fiddleford laughed and ruffled his hair before glancing up to meet Stanford’s eyes. Ford was hovering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of whether to join them.

Fiddleford took pity on him and offered his old friend a smile. “I’ll see ya later, Stanford. Take care of ya brother.”

Ford smiled back nervously. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

_______________________________________________________________

Stanford couldn’t smother the huge yawns that bubbled out of him. Curse this sleep deprivation! It made everything harder than it had to be. His sentences kept being interrupted by his own body’s involuntary reflexes.

Stanley followed him like a baby duck – a rather apt description, actually – while Ford bustled around the house. Ford sighed in annoyance when he very nearly tripped over his brother yet again, upon doubling back to retrieve a piece of equipment he’d forgotten.

“Stanley, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stan glanced away and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess. But every time I go to sleep I get these weird dreams. I dunno, I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you?”

Dreams – dammit, Ford had forgotten to warn his brother! He dropped down to be at eye-level with Stan, who blinked at the sudden movement.

“Uh, what-?”

“You’re having odd dreams, correct?” Stan nodded so Ford continued. “Rest assured, they won’t be able to harm you, so long as you never make a deal. If you come across anything triangular or yellow while in a dream you must not talk to it. It will talk to you and try to be your friend. Don’t trust anyone with yellow eyes, even if – no, especially if that person is me. Don’t talk to it and never shake its hand. Do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, but why? This is all soundin’ like Ma’s predictions.” Stan perked up. “Can you tell the future too? Does that mean I can as well?”

Ford sighed. “No, I can’t tell the future.”

“…can you make the weird dreams go away?” Stan questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, when I manage to get that unicorn hair – though I fear it may be a hopeless endeavor.” The weight of the day’s events – how could he ever hope to be pure of heart with all the wrong he had done? – sat heavily on his shoulders. Ford lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “Go to bed, Stanley, and remember what I said about people with yellow eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, never make a deal, I get it.” Stan paused, eyes flickering to the journal resting in Ford’s pocket and lighting up. “Can you tell me some more stories from your book before bed? Yesterday we got to the hidey-thing!”

“I don’t have time to read you stories, I have important work to do.”

Stan pouted. He looked up at Ford with those big brown eyes that were bigger than usual. It was then that Ford noticed the glasses – yes, Fiddleford had mentioned them, hadn’t he? Stan was wearing Ford’s spare glasses and they threatened to slip down his nose at every movement, far too big for him. They also had the added benefit of making him look very, very cute.

“How about I lend you my journal?” Ford relented. “You can read it by yourself before you go to sleep. I can tell you other stories later.”

Stan hesitated. “…yeah? I can borrow it?”

“So long as you don’t damage it, you may.” Ford dropped the book in his brother’s hands and turned to gather up an armful of equipment. “Go along now.”

Stanley scurried off to read, and Ford descended into the basement where his work waited.

When he emerged at seven thirty the next morning, Stan was gone.

#writing #gravity falls #rewind #chapter 4

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juniebjoneswrites · 4 years ago

Text

A Thousand Miles // Niall Horan

The Map (1)

I dramatically flip open my map like every traveler in a 90’s movie. Remind me who said taking a solo stretch during a backpacking trip was a good idea? I just have a few words for them. I huff a stray chunk of hair from my eyes as I strain in the Ireland sun. If I’ve calculated correctly there should be a “Wicklow” sign. I wander around finding a main road and… a sign! “Mullingar, Westmeath,” fuck. I unceremoniously fold my map and frustratingly skip it across the sidewalk, collapsing on a bench.

We all have our flaws, mine being navigation. And after a year and a half of this you’d think I could figure it out. But setting aside my one and only flaw, the present, deep seeded need was for a drink. Glancing both ways down the street, I have no strong feelings either way, or maybe I do? Who knows. But at this point trusting my gut has only gotten me lost, so I’ll just wing it. I decide on the right. I find a small hostel along the way and immediately take a room and a shower. I wash the last few days off like shedding skin, feeling myself becoming more bearable. I give the tub an extra rinse before filling it with hot water, detergent, and dumping in my dirty clothes. I take the metal rod I carry for protection and stir my cauldron of laundry like I’m a witch turned housewife. I leave it to soak. Who needs to spend on a machine anyway?

Back on the street the energy is more alive. People buzz from work to home, work to bars, you name it. I overhear a woman around my age excitedly state to a friend while grabbing their shoulders, “We're ahn de tear, be mahre excited!” Bingo. I slightly increase my speed to keep pace with the group. If they notice this hobo-esque woman following them, they don’t show it. We end up at a red-faced pub. Taking a seat at the bar I order whatever the bartender would get for herself then focus on the futball game.

“Hey, who do the people around here root for?” I ask the two men a few seats away.

“We root fahr-”

“It doesn't matter who they root fahr as lahng as it's Darby County,” the second man says, cutting off his friend.

I laugh, “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.” I cup my hand, ready to palm the drink sliding my way. Looking significantly more awesome than what I’m capable of, the cup slides smoothly in my hand, spilling nothing. A new talent acquired?

The Derby County fan jumps with excitement, the other scoffs, “You’re gettin’ loehcky, mate,” he throws back the rest of his beer, “Set down befahre ya right embarrass yooehrself,”

Instead he spins to the bartender, “A pent o' the black stoehff!”

His friend drops his head and sighs, pulling out his phone, “Well I guess I’ll tell de maht we’ll be late,”

Turning away from their animations, I watch another man coming in from the rain. It’s started to pour. Perfect. I have no dry clothes back at the hostel, and no umbrella with me. And my map! I groan loudly and throw my face to my hands. My map! It’s soaking up all the rain back on the sidewalk. It had years on me, my mother traveled with it, her friends traveled with it. It was a backpackers dream; information and drawings, notes taped to its front and back. Safe places, dangerous places, all the best food places. It was more valuable and sentimental than any of my new equipment, and was now lost to the weather because of my foolishness.

“You alright?” the first friend asks.

“I lost my backpacking map,” I finished my beer.

“Can’t ya get a new one?”

I sigh, “It’s not the same,” I tell him all the facts of this map and how it was undoubtedly superior to all other maps.

“Oof,” the Derby fan says, “Get the lady anahther pent as well,”

The bartender obliges and hands me another beer. “You know,” she says, “We do 'ave sahme maps 'ere,” She plucks one from under the bar, “Dey're a lettle ahld, boeht as nahthengs really changed, dey're stell pretty bang-ahn,”

The Derby fan takes the seat to my right as the first man and their recently arrived friend stays on my left, “Get some sahme pens, Cara, we’re makin’ a new map, lads,” he exclaims. “Go ahn, give it a lash,” he says once supplies arrive.

I sent out a mass S.O.S. on my high-tech, grade-A, top-of-the-line Tracfone to my fellow backpackers for any helpful bits for the map, albeit it’s mostly Ireland. For the next, almost hour or so, with the help of some pints, my memory, and their messages pouring in, I reconstructed the map. Dora the Explorer and her Map had nothing on me. The three friends and bartender support me the whole way through, giving more insight to their area. I learn their names along with Cara’s, the first friend: Sean, Derby fan: Niall, the man from the rain: Nicky. They asked questions about my travels, Niall seeing many parts of the world himself, resonated with my trips. Most of what I’ve seen has been on the opposite end of his spectrum though, so I gave him names and places to visit if he ever ventured out far enough. A few of my favorite places in the Philippines he swore to visit.

I expected the bar to fill up, though the rain instead kept the patrons away. Those of us stuck inside watched the game until Derby inevitably took a 5-0 lead and the win. Niall did a small dance with Sean, causing them to trip over a stool leg, bringing Sean almost to the ground; Niall catching him before the ground could. The beer gave me warmth against the rainy cold as I finally finished the map with what I could. There were no longer stains from previous trips and owners, the initials in the corner from those who once depended on it, now obsolete. I place my initials and the date in the bottom corner to relight our tradition. It was a beautiful mosaic of native and foreign, colorful paper and a multitude of pens markers from the others helping hands. I told the four of the tradition and to initial their names as I did, it only seemed right.

“Dahn’t sell dat now,” Nicky said.

I laughed, confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Because o’ Niall segnin it,” he pauses for my reaction, “Because'e's a senger,” he states at my confusion.

“Wait? Really?” I ask, they look bewildered. “I’ve been traveling for a long while,” I say shrugging.

Niall laughs, “Yeah, yeah that’s what they all say,”

I hold up my Tracfone as evidence. Holding it like a touch screen, I pretend to look him up, “Ah, yes. I do see it now. Niall Someone, singer, and oh? What’s that?” I suck on my teeth, “Wow looks like you’ve been cancelled,” I give a sorry pout to him, “How sad,”

Sean laughs, hitting Niall’s chest, “I dedn't get me mahneys wahrth frahm ya yet, mate, ya can’t be cancelled,”

“Well I guess in that case,” I say, carefully folding the map, “To the highest bidder it goes.” The friends laugh and grab the map. I pull it to my chest for safekeeping. “Maybe I’ll just keep it instead, I do need to get around still,”

----------

Sometime later we moved to leave the pub. The rain’s cleared, leaving a cloudy, moon lit sky. We say our goodbyes and I head in the opposite direction. I walk a few yards before a hand on my elbow spins me around. I grab my metal rod from my back pocket, pressing the button to lengthen it, I hold it in the air before realizing who was before me.

“Jesoehs Noelle, it's joehst me,” Niall cries.

I let out a frightful sigh, “Man, don’t do that,” I clutch my chest.

He laughs a little, "I'm invitin’ a few to me place and thooehght maybe you'd like to see a lettle mahre o' Ireland,”

“Yes, obviously,” I say in a relieved, obvious tone. “Just promise no one will jump me when we get there,”

“I cahnaht do that,”

“We’ll at least you’re honest,” I retort, earning his laughter as we walk into the night.

#niall horan #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #one direction #harry styles #zayn mailk #liam payne #louis tomlinson

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deepeststarfishsong · 5 years ago

Text

Bet

Written for @helianthus21, @pray4jensen, & @bend-me-shape-me‘s #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge 27/04 Monday 4. Bet.

Cross-posted to Ao3.

This may or may not portray my own sentiments on floral bouquets...

"Yes, Sam. I understand that it is traditional. I still find giving cut flowers as a gift of affection to be counterintuitive.” Cas shook his head in frustration as he watched yet another grainy commercial for a bouquet delivery salon in the little South Carolina town they were currently stuck in.

Sam laughed, “I’m sure it made sense when it began, but you know how sentimental humans are, Cas. Giving flower bouquets is one of the expectations of Valentine’s Day. It’s how you show someone you love them.”

Dean watched Cas and Sam argue the point, back and forth like a tennis match. Cas sat on the far bed watching the television with rapt attention and Sam laid sprawled across the nearer bed, laptop balanced on his chest while he half-heartedly conducted research. Why this of all topics was the one they latched on to he may never know. He shook his head and did his best to stay out of what was a pointless conversation, returning his attention back to the little table where his gun was disassembled and half oiled. Chuck, give me strength.

“What part of giving flowers do you take objection to, Cas?” Sam was not letting this one go.

“It just seems so bleak,” replied Cas, tilting his head while he considered his answer. “How does one convey affection or love with what are essentially dying flowers.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess you have a point,” Sam shrugged. “According to Lord Google, giving flowers began in the middle ages as representative meanings based on flower types, like a secret language. It says here that Rhododendrons imply danger and that tulips are a declaration of love.”

“A rather depressing secret language,” Cas muttered to himself. “From the moment they are cut, they begin to wilt and die. How does that portray feelings of warmth? Here is a gift representative of my love for you… dying…? I just do not understand the appeal.”

“Well we can’t all have Dean’s positivity when it comes to Valentine’s Day,” Sam nodded towards Dean, giving him a grin. “What is it you celebrate? ‘Unattached Drifter’s Christmas?’”

“Damn straight,” Dean replied more to himself than Sam.

“I don’t think I will have occasion to receive such a gift, regardless,” Cas voiced to the car. They had just finished up interviews at the County Sheriff’s Office and were heading back to the motel to regroup. Dean sighed audibly. Here we go again.

“I don’t know about that, Cas. You just have to meet someone special.” Trust Sam to come through with the unwanted Hallmark moment from the backseat where he couldn’t be reached to smack quiet.

“Yes, perhaps.” Dean couldn’t be sure but Cas sounded sad.

Once they reached the motel, Dean had volunteered to go for takeout. Sam had agreed immediately, thoughts already on getting his loafers off and jumping in the shower. Cas followed behind him, the flowers since forgotten and his attention turned back to the case. Dean could hear them spitball theories as he drove out of the parking lot.

“You should tell him, Cas,” Sam said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“Tell who what, Sam?” Cas blinked at him in confusion.

“I know I give him a lot of shit for being an emotionally bankrupt horndog, but behind all of that, Dean’s actually a pretty decent guy. And he cares--even if he doesn’t know how to say it.”

“What exactly am I supposed to be saying to him?” Cas eyed Sam with less confusion than his voice implied.

“The truth, Cas,” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I have been honest with Dean, even if I chose to limit the aggregate that I tell him. I have not lied.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been omitting something pretty big. I get it, man, I really do. I know you don’t want to risk your friendship, but I really think that he would surprise you if you told him. He cares, Cas.”

“It’s far too great a risk, Sam.” Cas looked defeated. “Dean has no preference for bodies like this… male vessel.” He gestured at himself. “And he certainly has made every declaration towards maintaining an autonomous relationship status.”

Sam wasn’t sure how to get his point across. He was the one that had to sit there and watch the two of them dance around this shit. Sooner or later, something had to give. “Cas…”

Cas’ face fell and he slumped into the chair, hanging his head. “He doesn’t think of me that way, Sam.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Sam lingered for a moment, considering Cas before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

“I am not a gambling man, Sam…” Cas whispered to himself. “There’s just too much to lose.”

On his way back with dinner, Dean dialed up Sam and propped the phone in the crook of his neck. “Hey dude. You wanna run up to that liquor store and buy a handle? I’m about outta cash and this card is barely going to clear the room.”

Sam, on the other end, ruffled his still-damp hair with a towel. “Yeah, I can do that. It’s like a block and a half away. I’ll just walk, don’t worry about picking me up, just get back here with the food while it’s still hot.

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replied as he clicked his phone closed. Dean pulled up in front of the motel and killed the engine. He gathered up his duffel and the takeout that the restaurant had kindly nestled into a big cardboard box. Maybe he over-ordered but better safe than sorry, right?

He managed to wrestle the door open one handed and set the food down on the little tabletop. Dean could hear the shower running, Cas must’ve decided to wash off the desert sun. Dean busied himself with unpacking dinner, fighting with cheap chopsticks, and rooting around in his duffle. When he ran out of things to fuss with, he decided to hell with it and grabbed his container to sit down in front of the television.

As Dean got comfortable, the bathroom door cracked open and Cas poured out trailed by a thick layer of steam. “Did you leave any hot water for me?” Dean quipped.

“Yes of course I did, oh,” Cas stopped short when he looked at the bedside table. Next to Cas’ duffle sat a tiny gray and gold ceramic pot filled with living, red tulips. “Dean?” Cas turned to him in confusion.

“You can’t be sad about them since they’re alive, but you’ll probably have to take ‘em out of that tiny pot and plant ‘em when we get back home,” Dean explained, eyes flicking up to Cas’.

“But, I… Dean…” Cas looked back and forth between Dean and the flowers. Dean set his untouched food aside and stood, closing the narrow space between them.

“Do you like them?” Dean gave a tiny smile and Cas was instantly reminded of a small child asking if he did good.

Cas looked back at the tulips again and a smile crept across his face. He looked back to Dean unsure how to convey just how much he loved them, only to find Dean pressing close and running his fingers along Cas’ chin. “Dean…” Cas began.

Dean cut him off with a brush of his lips that began light but intensified as he felt Cas relax into his touch. Cas reached up to wrap an arm around Dean’s neck pulling him closer. Dean countered by sliding an arm around Cas’ waist, holding him steady.

The sound of the door opening startled them and pulled their attention away. Dean reflexively grabbed for his gun with his free hand, but continued to hold Cas close. Dean lowered his gun as Sam pushed the door open with his foot and closed behind him, setting a handle down on the table from one hand, and a case of beer from the other. Sam looked up at them startled, taking in the situation. His eyes caught the red potted bouquet behind the two, and he let out a laugh. He looked at Cas squarely, “About time. Some bets are a sure thing.” Dean, to his credit, ignored the bait and turned his back to Sam to press another soft kiss against Cas’ lips.

#SpnStayAtHome #Destiel #Dean Winchester x Castiel #SAM SHIPS IT #friends to lovers #tooth rotting fluff #shameless fluff #cross posted #tumblr prompt

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

Text

Officially Nowhere

“Sam! Where are we going?”

“Trust me, Cap. I know a place. We’re going somewhere safe.”

“Nat, you still with us?!”

“I’m good.” she said. Her breathing was ragged but she was holding on.

“She needs a medic. Fast.”

“I know. We’re 2 minutes out.”

They pulled up to a gate. Sam sped up to drive through. He silently thanked heaven that it wasn’t rigged with explosives. He’d keep that to himself. He knew you wouldn’t be pleased to have all of this commotion dropped in your lap but you’d help anyway. Steve jumped out of the car and grabbed Nat rushing her to your door. He went to go kick it in thinking the place was abandoned. Sam shouted, “WAIT!!” but it was too late. Steve had a gun to his head faster than he was able to release his leg. He froze in place looking to Sam who was running to his side.

“Y/N! It’s me! Don’t shoot!” Sam said putting up his hands.

“Wilson? What the fuck is this?”

“I’m sorry. We need your help. Romanoff is hurt. Please.”

“Lower your weapon, soldier” Steve said in a rather commanding way. You laughed. “I will as soon as she does” pointing to Nat with your chin. Nat had her weapon pointed at you.

“Everyone lets calm down. Y/N they are friendly. I trust them.” Your face softened a bit as Nat raised her hands. You holstered your weapon and stepped aside. “ Put her on the kitchen table. I’ll get my bag.” “Where are we?” asked Steve. “Officially? I am no one. You are nowhere. I’m not helping you. Unofficially I’m Y/N. I’m a former combat medic and this is my house. Nice to meet you. Now please. The table.”

You grabbed some supplies from a hall closet. Nat was talking so she seemed to be breathing ok. “Let’s see.” Steve hovered at her side. “Captain you’ll have to move so I can evaluate her injuries.” He moved out of the way and you got to work. “You know who I am?” He asked still watching you work. “Of course. Everyone does. Romanoff was it?” Nat nodded. “You were hit. Through and through by the looks of it. I can patch you up but you’ll need surgery to see if you’re bleeding internally. She needs to get to a hospital, Sam.”

“No. No hospital.” Nat said through gritted teeth. You gave her something for the pain. She started to drift off. “What did you give her?!” Steve shouted reaching for his gun. “Relax. It’s for pain. I don’t think your girlfriend wants to feel me rooting around inside a bullet wound.” He relaxed a little. Sam went to the fridge to get some water for Steve and a beer for himself. You finished sewing up the wound and swabbed her skin with disinfectant. “That will do for now. I have a spare bedroom in the back. We need to get her there to rest.” Steve picked up Nat and got her to the room. You started an IV and hooked her up to a few machines to monitor her. “She’ll be out for a while, Captain.” You patted him on the shoulder and pulled a chair to her bedside. “She’s lucky to have you.” As you stepped into the doorway he looked back and said, “Thank you, Y/N. I really can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done....and she’s not my girlfriend.”

You went back into the kitchen where Sam was already cleaning up. You opened a beer and got him another. “So. Wanna tell me what’s going on?” “Yeah. We’re fugitives. Hiding out from SHIELD, Hydra the US government. And, if that wasn’t enough, a brain washed super soldier who happens to be Cap’s best friend.” He sunk down onto the couch sighing heavily. You sat next to him laughing quietly to yourself. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just you. You always get mixed up in stupid ass shit. You’re like a trouble magnet.” He laughed half heartedly lying his head back.

“You have no idea. I’m glad I get to see you you know but not under these circumstances. How have you been doing?”

“You know me, Sam. I manage.”

“Have you been going out on jobs?”

“A few. Mild stuff. Search and rescues...assassinations. Nothing too strenuous.”

“What about the nightmares?”

“They are still around.”

You heard shuffling and saw Steve standing in the doorway. “Sorry. Nat’s awake.”

“Oh great. Let me go see about her.” Steve sat down in a big chair and let out a long tired sigh. “You hungry, man? Y/N has a big grill outside. I can throw something on.” With his eyes still closed he nodded and tried to will himself out of the chair to help. You came back with Nat at your side saying, “Look who’s back from the dead” Nat pressed her hand into her bandage stifling a laugh.

Sam jumped up to help her get situated. “Hey Y/N Steve and I are gonna get the grill going. What can I cook?”

“Oh I got it.”

“No, ma’am. You’ve done enough today. Put your feet up. We got it.” Sam said while he pushed you back down on the couch.

“Check the fridge. I have all kinds of meat in there. Grab what looks good.”

While they were rummaging through the kitchen you checked ok Nat again. “Y/N please. I’m fine. Take a load off.” And so you did. You sat quietly for several minutes watching the men out of the window. They seemed a little more at ease now chatting and laughing. You focused in on Steve. You wondered what he was really like when he wasn’t Captain America. He seemed worn out..worried. Nat was watching you watch him. You didn’t know it but you were biting your bottom lip. You did that when you were really thinking.

“He’s not bad to look at” she finally said. You startled at sound of her voice.

“No, he’s not. What’s his story? Girlfriend? Wife?”

Nat laughed, “he doesn’t date much. Kind of keeps to himself. You should see him on a mission though. The guy is a beast”

“I’ll bet he is.”

“What’s your story, Y/N? How many tours did you serve?”

“Three. Combat medic.”

“Is that how you know Sam?”

“Yeah. I saved his life a few times. Then he saved mine.”

“Can I ask why the Army thinks you were KIA?”

“Because they assumed that, when they left me on the side of the road to die, I actually did die. Thank goodness for Sam. He spotted me when he was out on patrol and took care of me. I owe him everything.”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Your own unit?!”

You chuckled “Yep. My own unit. I was the only woman. I had a nonconsensual run in with one of the guys. Asked to be transferred and swore I wouldn’t report. My last night on the base they took me out for a send off dinner. We never made it. A couple of them pulled me out of the Jeep. They took turns brutalizing and beating me. Pushed me down an embankment. I swear I have no idea how Sam saw me.” Nat’s mouth hung open and closed several times trying to find words. She was at a loss.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. So you’re just hiding out here? All by yourself? What do you do for money? Physical contact with people?”

“I tend to avoid physical contact unless I have needs to fulfill.” You smiled to yourself. “As far as cash goes, when I was in the hospital I met some of the royal family from Wakanda. They were there on a good will visit meeting wounded civilians. They listened to my story and took me in. Put me to work. That’s why I can afford to stay in the lap of luxury.” You both laughed. She held your hand and squeezed. Giving you a shy half smile she said, “I’m so glad Sam found you.” You had tears in your eyes. You choked them back not wanting to give them any satisfaction. You don’t cry over that night anymore.

“Hey ladies! Soup’s on!” Sam shouted from the door.

You helped Nat out onto the patio. The four of you spent the evening talking and laughing like old friends. You and Steve were definitely flirting. You excused yourself to pick up the dishes. As soon as you were inside Sam an Nat pounced.

“Dude! You are totally flirting with her.” Sam said playfully. Steve waved him off.

“Come on, Cap. She’s flirting back. It’s adorable.” Nat teased.

Steve blushed. “She is isn’t she?”

“Get in there, man. Make a move.” said Sam as he nudged Steve’s arm. He shook his head “no” “GO!” they said in unison. He flushed crimson and sweat started to bead on his forehead. He went into the kitchen to help with the dishes. Steve kept looking out the window at the two of them who smiled like proud parents.

“Christ she’s going to eat him alive” Nat said still smiling.

“It’s hard to watch” Sam replied. The two of them went to bed leaving you two on your own.

“I’ll wash you dry?” You said as you threw Steve a towel.

“Yes, ma’am. So how do you manage to live off the grid like this? Must be lonely.”

“It can be. I work when I am asked. When I have needs to meet I take care of it.”

“I was under the impression that no one knew you existed.”

“I work for the Royal Family of Wakanda. It’s a long story. They’re the only ones.”

“What kind of work do you do for them?”

“I am a War Dog. Part of the central intelligence service of Wakanda.”

“So can you tell me what kinds of missions you go on?”

“Need to know, Captain.”

“I see. I hope you stay safe. And please call me Steve.” He rested his hands on the kitchen island watching you bend over to put away a pan. You could feel his eyes on you. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m the safest.” you say with a wink “And I rather like calling you Captain.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his pants to hide his arousal.

“Well I guess I’ll turn in.”

“Or you can stay up with me for a little bit. I don’t get much company I’m sure you can imagine. Let’s go out to the deck.”

You lit the fire pit and grabbed a couple of blankets. The air was crisp. The slight breeze felt good against your neck. You didn’t realize how warm you were. You pulled the blanket higher around your shoulders your skin shivering into goosebumps. You had a bottle of wine and a glass for each of you. “Red ok?” You poured way too much in his glass. “Red is fine. That’s plenty. Are you trying to get me drunk?” He laughed a little making your cheeks warm. “Me? Never.” “You do know I can’t get drunk? My metabolism is too fast. Alcohol burns right off. “ You plopped down next to him with an exaggerated hmph. “Well that puts a hitch in my plans.”

He smiled at you. This was not his Captain America smile. This smile spread on his lips very slowly like a cat that ate the canary. He rested his hand on your knee and said, “You don’t need to get me drunk.” You let out a small sigh and your eyes fluttered closed. You set your glass down and put your hand on top of his. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and you leaned in to kiss him. He was timid at first only softly pressing his lips against yours. “Is this ok?” you whispered. “Hell yes” he replied.

He bent his neck so you didn’t have to strain to meet him. You pressed your lips together slowly snaking your tongue inside his mouth. Your tongues met dancing together exploring each other. His fingers ran the length of your spine before settling at your hips. He pulled you on top of him without having to separate from you. You could feel how hard he was and you pressed down on him making him moan in your mouth. Your hands moved to his belt buckle removing his belt in one fluid motion. He unbuttoned your shirt pushing over your shoulders. You slipped your hand into his underwear stroking his impressive length the tip already dripping. Steve was horny to the point of pain. He moved his hips fucking your hand and was almost ready to cum then. “Wait....I don’t want to cum yet.” he said breathless dropping his head back. “Oh no, Captain, not yet.” Your voice was low and husky. Still straddling him you kissed the stubble on his jaw line down to the spot just below his ear. You felt his pulse racing against your lips. His skin was salty with sweat and smelled delicious. He was panting now. His hands were a vice grip on your hips silently begging you press down to give him release. You sat back on your heels taking off your shirt and bra giving him a little show. You stood up pulling your pants and panties down. He felt like you were moving in slow motion. You were back on him taking off his shirt. You trailed a finger over his abs marveling at the definition. The hair on his belly was sticky with his own juices. His cock looked like it was going to explode. You fisted the waistband of his pants and underwear in your hands and tugged them down. He lifted up a little to make it easier. Your eyes were locked on each other’s, Steve’s mouth open slightly breathing heavy. You slipped two fingers into his mouth and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “suck”. He obliged. Once they were wet enough you removed them and brought them down to your pussy. You leaned back so he could have an uninhibited view of your fingers dipping in. Your other hand was on your clit rubbing furiously. He steadied you with one arm at the small of your back. He wanted to touch you but you slapped his hand away. When you were almost to the point of orgasm you stopped sitting up abruptly. You lowered yourself onto his cock and rode him until you both exploded.

After a few minutes you rolled off of his lap onto the couch. You slapped your hand down on his thigh and said, “ What do you say, Captain? Up for round two?” His lips split into a devastating grin, “I can do this all day.” And so you did twice more. Once was in the shower where you scrubbed each other clean. He pressed your back against the cold tile driving himself into you while he held your legs. The last time was bent over the foot of your bed. When you finished he collapsed his full weight on top of you. Your breathing mirrored his both sated and exhausted. He trailed kisses on the back of your neck slapping your ass as he stood up. You crawled towards your pillow. He stretched out next to you. You didn’t speak. He pulled you onto his chest and held you. As you drifted off to sleep he kissed the top of your head. That was the first night in ages that you were nightmare free.

The next morning Sam was the first one up. He walked to the living room glancing out of the door going out to the deck. Your clothes were scattered on the ground. He chuckled to himself. Alright, Steve. He made his way to the kitchen to make coffee. Nat wandered in next, “Did I see underwear on the deck?” Sam looked over his shoulder, “Our little boy is growing up, Nat.”

You woke up feeling way too hot. Steve was sleeping with his body curled around you. You freed yourself and slid out of the bed trying not to wake him. He didn’t stir. You got dressed and snuck out of the room. When you got to the kitchen Nat and Sam were at the table chatting. “Morning. Ooh thanks for making coffee.”

“Y/N, wanna tell us what happened last night?” asked Sam

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Is Steve still sleeping?”

“Yep. Or I killed him. Not sure.”

Nat’s phone rang. She stepped outside to answer. She came back in interrupting your conversation. “We have to go. That was Hill. We know what Pierce is planning for Project Insight. I’ll fill you in on the ride. On the road in 10.” Sam was on his feet gathering his things. You grabbed Steve’s clothes. Back in your bedroom Steve was awake but still lying on the pillow. He was thinking about Bucky. You opened the door peeking in. “Hey. Time for you to go to work, Captain. Nat just got a phone call. She said on the road in 10.” You sat on the bed next to him. He held your hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss your finger tips. “I don’t want to go.”

“Ah well. You have a job to do.” He kissed your palm and rested it on his cheek. His eyes closed and he sighed deeply. “Can I see you again?” “You know where to find me.” You smiled and got off the bed, “Now March, soldier”

You said your goodbyes. You told them to come back to visit. You couldn’t help but feel a little pang of sadness. Sam wrapped you in a bear hug. “Be safe, man.” “Thanks for everything, Y/N.”

“Cap. We have to go” Nat shouted.

“Be there in a sec. I’ll come back soon.”

“You’d better. Be safe, Captain.” He kissed you deeply. You hugged him around his neck. Nat beeped the horn. He kissed you again and then he was gone.

Later you saw on the news three Helicarriers were destroyed and crashed into the Potomac. The report said Steve was shot. You grabbed your phone and called Sam. It rang once, “He’s ok.” You hung up. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath.

Once Steve was out of the hospital he said his goodbyes to Nat and Fury. He looked down at Bucky’s file. “You’re going after him.” “You don’t have to come with me. I have to make a pit stop though.” Sam smiled, “Where to?” Steve smiled back. “Officially? Nowhere.”

#captain america x reader #mcu smut #mcu x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #captain america smut

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Please Come Home For Christmas

Summary: Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet.

Fandom: Carrie

Ships: Carrie White/Sue Snell

Word Count: 3,012

Not a sound beat it’s living heart in the White household on a Saturday night.

There would be nothing to ease Carrie into sleep until dawn broke and the only ambiance then would be her Mother’s small footsteps atop the lonesome hardwood. But as times turned to Winter and soft flakes of snow hurtled to the ground, Carrie White orchestrated her own performance.

Kneeling in-front of her mirror, she dug a thin brush a bit too harshly into a tube of mascara she’d yet to wear once without crying it off before even leaving her bedroom. Her mother wanted for her to be celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ but the young daughter was just realizing she’d been born with the will to celebrate herself.

So she sat, blinking her eyes at the glass while allowing herself to admire the reflection. Her head bounced...words coming and going with the same speed as distant hail. ‘Spastic’ and ‘weirdo’. She frowned, clawing at the velvety pink fabric of her shirt. ‘Scary White’.

Carrie flung the tube of makeup against the wall...it thumped but gave her no satisfaction. Her eyes followed it as it rolled back towards he folded legs and rattled there against the skin for a few seconds. Mama remained still in her sleep downstairs. Thank goodness.

Pebbles hitting the window like a headache to her right temple awakened Carrie from her thoughts. She crawled across the floor and gently threw open the window with something like a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

A stray pebble came through the corner as she popped up...getting her first peek at the lovely Sue Snell who was bouncing (partly from the cold) to get her eyes on her. But young Carrie’s attention was got from her first tease of Sue’s sweet voice...singing...

“Carrie, Carrie, baby

Carrie baby

Carrie, can you come out tonight?”

Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet.

“You stop that!” She tried to hold back her chuckles. “I’ll be down in a minute. That is if you’re singing didn’t wake Mama.” She scoffed as if she were really upset but Sue didn’t buy that and Carrie could tell.

“Hurry down, fair Carrie!” Sue continued her restless hopping, hands now stuffed into the pockets of her coat. “I want to see the Christmas lights!” Her curly hair bounced high with her.

The rough plan was to take a stroll around the neighborhood, maybe observe the shiny decorations, and head to the Drive-In for Root-beer floats or something. No big deal but Carrie had been thinking about it non-stop for the days since Sue asked when she’d come home from her college’s Christmas break. That was just something she couldn’t help, being that she was a textbook overthinker.

But judging the way Sue had arrived exactly on time (not even off by a minute) and seemed awfully fidgety, the girl was probably no better. She stood at the end of the walk-way, snowflakes flying down atop her like a living angel...she was bathed in a white shine. Carrie had no way of knowing that Sue was thinking the very same thing about her...

“Tommy asked me to give you his Christmas gift.” She slipped a shinning slim box from her purse of wonders and waved it out for Carrie. “He’s tragically spending his Holiday studying. You miss him, though. I know, sooo...”

She sped over with a bashful smile and accepted the pure looking gift. For a horrid moment, Carrie pictured a tampon sitting there atop the blue fuzzy bed which was of course, a cruel joke from her own mind because what did lay there was a delicate silver chained bracelet.

“He got me a matching one.” Sue giggled, wiggling her wrist. “Tommy’s a sweet boy, huh? He thought we can fill them up with charms-”

“Like real friendship bracelets?” Carrie abruptly looked up with watery eyes full of an earnest emotion that was hard to place.

“Yeah!” She gently took Carrie’s wrist, skin-to-skin, and lined up their arms to show off the whole matching gimmick. There was just 1 charm on each of their chains. A glittering star on Carrie’s & a shining heart for Sue. Carrie turned her wrist slowly to watch the charms soak in the night’s light. “He fell for us both, I think.”

Carrie snapped her head up at that. “Oh, Sue--I don’t think that’s true-”

Sue shook her head with a smile. “My goodness, Carrie White.” Her giggle filled the space between them. “See that it’s true-” She flicked the other girls star charm and then her own. “Poor thing just never had a shot with either of us.” She hummed, almost sad. “I never could love Tommy the way he deserved. The life I would have had with him wasn’t what I wanted. You know that, I guess.”

Carrie pursed her lips. Yes, she remembered lovely Sue pouring her heart and soul into the cupped palms of one Carrie White. After the prom, Sue hiccupped everything out like thick blood from her throat.

It was criminally endearing. The way Sue had clawed at the tears on her cheeks, explaining that it was just fine for Carrie to date Tommy. In fact, she had subconsciously wished it would happen that way, Sue did. But Carrie didn’t fall for Tommy quite as hard as she did for Sue that night.

“I love you, Sue.” Was all she could think to say.

“And I love you, Carrie.” Her nose wiggled again. “I’m working on loving you the way you deserve.” She shrugged, taking her wrist away and starting on the holiday walk. Her boots thudded against the concrete.

Carrie nearly rolled her eyes, which would have struck Sue as cute. “You love me like you love me.” She hesitantly took the girl’s cold hand in hers...feeling overwhelmingly warm inside. “It’s just the perfect way to live, Sue. To be loved by you.”

Sue slowed down a bit, a pace where the houses behind her stopped being blurry, and blushed. “You always know just what to say Carrie White.” She paused just to admire the girl. “How do you do it?”

Carrie felt her own blush creep up her neck as she shrugged. “I just say what I mean.” She fumbled on her words, feeling like a little mess but was rewarded with a quick kiss on the cheek. It felt criminally undeserved but she still enjoyed the peck of Sue’s pink lips. Part of her felt so eternally grateful for the girl that she had to hold back tears.

They strolled past lawns of beautiful Christmas decorations, Carrie felt the distant eyes of blow mold Santa’s. A tall brown house eclipsing the moon from her vision had the whole baby in the manger set-up. The baby Jesus seemed to sit up in the wooden basket and she imagined it’s glare directed at her. But when Carrie looked up, the plastic baby was asleep just like any decoration.

She sighed. Not realizing she’d stopped until Sue curled up next to her and gently grabbed her arm. She reached out to brush a few blonde baby hairs from Carrie’s temple, a simple gesture but so filled with love. “Save yourself from wasting your young-adulthood, Carrie...” She whispered against the girls skin. “Think about coming home with me.”

The falling snowflakes around only them grew fatter and a tiny bit slanted as Carrie snapped her head over to gaze at the girl. Both knew the magical element which lay at it’s cause but neither said anything of it. In fact, Sue opened her mouth to stick out her tongue and taste the fluffy ice.

It ignited a small fire in Carrie’s chest. “My mom-”

Sue deflated slightly, it was hard not to notice. “She doesn’t deserve you Carrie.”

The blonde pulled her eyes away from Sue and landed them back on the front of the brown-brick home. Their left window glowed green, the right was a glittery crimson. “I deserve her...” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I can’t Sue. I’m sorry-”

Sue blinked, letting go of Carrie’s arm to wiped her sleeve under her left eye, attempting to look away but Carrie caught the bit of water leaking out. Her chest thumped with pain. Never in her life did she want to make Sue Snell cry. It stung her with a horrible burning sensation all over her body. “Sue?”

She sniffled. “It’s fine. I’m being a baby, huh?” Her giggle then sounded strained. “I just want you to be happy, ok? I would only try to step in like this if I really thought you needed it.” She looked off again.

Carrie felt a flicker of resentment towards the girl, flashes of the prom night played like an old movie in her head. Flashes of hard reds mixed with the hues of Easter colored dresses. “I don’t need you to step in, Sue.” Her voice twitched in it’s tone, a sign of growing anger that while recognized...couldn’t be helped. “Getting your boyfriend to take me to prom just because you felt sorry for me doesn’t earn you that right.”

Sue didn’t flinch but almost. Instead, the girl just shifted her weight to her right leg to disguise her step back. She wasn’t scared. Just a little disappointed in herself for jerking Carrie around. She turned her attention to the lawn of Blow Molds again, making eye contact with one of the old Santas. Tethered reindeer raising his packed sleigh. He smiled, a grin thick with teeth which were blotted in the red color bleeding in from the poorly painted lips.

A shiver went down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Sue.” Carrie blew a flying piece of hair away from her eyes and sighed. “I shouldn’t have-”

Sue pursed her lips and shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I do have a history of making you do things you don’t want to do.”

Carrie smiled gently. “I had a lovely time with Tommy. Prom...” Her eyes glittered a brief reflection of the Christmas lights across the street. “Turned out pretty okay.” She pinched Sue’s arm softly as if to strengthen the point.

“My boyfriend fell in love with you.” Sue burst into delightful giggles. Carrie couldn’t help but join her.

“And I fell in love with his Girlfriend.” She added, tilting her chin so as to hide behind her long blonde hair. But that didn’t block the feeling of Sue’s joy from radiating around her. Thankfully.

Moonlight bathed the houses in a mystic pale light, leaving Carrie feeling mute and cold in the winter snow. There was a sense of deadened glee there, after the laughs passed, which they might’ve been able to keep had Sue not invited such tension into air between them. Both girls thought, different in each introspective mind, about how to pass go and collect their 200 dollars.

Carrie sniffled, red nose flaring, and found it in her to smile. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Sue chuckled, shoving her cold hands back into the long pockets of her coat as they strolled on. They passed more and more glittering houses that screamed of warm cookies and casual family bickering. To Carrie, it looked very beautiful and very neighborly.

“A Christmas card, from you.” She chose her words carefully, that much was very clear to her quiet friend. “With words straight from the heart, Missy.” She poked at her.

Carrie shook her head with a tight grin. “To you and all your family, your neighbors and your friends, May all your days be happy with a joy that never ends-” She sang so softly that no one would ever hear but Sue Snell.

“Oh, stop that.” Sue thumped her arm gently and burst into sweet giggles. “David Cassidy’s words are not what I want from you.”

“And what do you want?”

Sue rolled her eyes and bent her knees to pick-up a fallen Candy Cane from the next house’s lawn. Her shoes scoffed against the hard flakes of ice but she had no trouble keeping balance. “I believe I said that already.” She flicked her tongue.

Carrie shrugged, knowing that she’d agonize over what to write for as long as possible.

Sue stuck the decoration harder into the grass, stepped back and admired her work with a faint mumbling of lyrics pouring from her mouth. Carrie was positive she didn’t even know she was doing it. “Hello world! I'm your wild girl. I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

"Who sings that?”

Sue blinked a few times before realizing what she’d done. “Oh, the Runaways...” Her smiled refreshed, much brighter, as she waited for Carrie to catch up to her side again. “If you came to live with me, I could show you all my records.”

Carrie knew now that the battle to shove that conversation down was not going to favor her. “I have missed out on a lot.”

Sue smirked. “Are you humoring me? Finally.” She sighed happily, dramatically too, and grabbed for Carrie’s hand again. She opened her mouth, ready to list more wonderful things but stopped suddenly. Her hand weakened almost instantly.

She looked up and frowned. “I’m really lonely up there, Carrie.” There was an earnest look of despair that chilled her friend to the bone. “I’m not used to that, I guess. Being one half of a high school sweetheart couple for that long...well, it makes you really dependent.”

Carrie squeezed her dead palm softly. “Maybe that’s good for you, Sue...”

The young girl sighed, no dramatics that time, and nodded a few times. “Maybe.”

The epitome of sad...that was Sue Snell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bells will be ringing this sad sad New Years Oh what a Christmas to have the blues My baby's gone I have no friends To wish me greetings once again...”

The Drive-in, affectionately known as Bluebell’s, was covered in the perfect sprinkling of dusty snow. Making it a picture perfect enough for a postcard (that is if anyone gave a shit about Chamberlain, Maine).

Sue Snell pulled her straw in-and-out of her root-beer float and watched Carrie White scoop the frothy ice-cream onto her spoon with eager eyes. It was endearingly sweet. “I think we can be independent together.”

Carrie swallowed, spoon clinking against her glass. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose, Sue?”

She shook her head and took a long sip of the sweet treat. “No.” Her face was neither in a happy or sad expression. “I don’t need to be independent from you, Carrie. Just...from the life I almost had. One where I end up being a housewife.” A huge hunk of ice-cream fell down her chin, which she wiped at instantly. “And you need independence from...”

“My mother.” Carrie frowned, putting her chin in her hand.

“I don’t think independence has to come at the expense of companionship...” Sue shook her head again. The girls went quiet again, just enjoying their--poorly decided--icy cold drink in the middle of a chilling winter night.

“It’s a nice thought.” Carrie mumbled, licking off any ice cream from her lips in a rush as Sue blinked up at her. “But someone needs to take care of-”

“She’s an adult, Carrie.” Sue gently set her glass down on the table, fluorescent lights blinking above her in a off-putting green hue. “Your Mother can take care of herself. You need to start taking care of yourself.” She finished her point by taking another long slurp of her float. Carrie thought she was hoping to hide her nerves.

A feeling of anxiety pounded from Carrie’s chest and sunk down to her gut as she let those words rush over her. Sue didn’t pressure for any sort of response and instead smiled softly, enjoying the Holiday music. “If I was starting to consider the idea of potentially going away, what might you say to me?” Carrie twirled her straw but didn’t look up.

The girl brightened considerably but remained calm. “I’d say...” She paused momentarily.

“But this is Christmas yes Christmas my dear The time of year to be with the ones you love So won't you tell me you'll never more roam Christmas and new Years will find you home...”

“Don’t do it for me, y’know? Just because I’ve been...annoying you about it all night.” Sue frowned, looking madly depressed with herself. “Do it for you. Go anywhere. Just don’t stay here...with her.”

Carrie found them very low in company, the only other customer around was hidden inside their car. She planned to reach over to cradle the girls freezing hand but found that to be even too much for her fear. So she settled for bumping their legs together from under the table, jean-covered ankles finding each other’s warmth.

Carrie thought briefly about the baby Jesus outside that tall brown home they’d passed on the way. Laying as still as any decoration had to be in it’s wooden basket.

She reached out for that hand. Sue instantly squeezed back but stayed quiet, possibly letting Carrie now take the lead because she felt badly. Snow continued to fall but they stayed safe under the tiny roof of the drive-in, remaining a delighted audience to the winter wonderland scene.

There would come a time and a place during Sue’s College Break stay to discuss further but for now, the girls just relaxed. For Carrie had finally been gifted the ability to take it easy, as long as Sue kept tracing circles onto her skin.

She’d come out tonight without permission from Mama & that was enough to make her smile. If she could make it as far as the drive-in...well, there was a big chance she’d see herself farther.

#it's my first fic for them so...#i hope you like it!!#carrie white #sue snell #stephen king #my fanfiction #holiday fics #carrie

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axwalker · 5 years ago

Text

You’ll never walk alone

Wszystkiego najlepszego z okazji urodzin !!!!

I said it before in my previous post (here), but I’ll say it one million times again:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! You’re one of my closest friends here and I love you so so so much!!

I know we’re living a hard, difficult world right now, but I hope you can find a way to enjoy your Birthday the way you deserve it!

Warnings: SMUT (that I know of, but I’m sure someone who’s really motivated can find something else 🤷🏽‍♀️.)

A/N: This is an AU but it takes place somewhere during the social season.

I hope this covers everything you were asking for. It has a slow burn, your favorite soccer team and a bit of Dublin because I know how much you were looking forward to go. DON’T WORRY, YOU’LL GO BEFORE YOU KNOW IT!

Word count: Euh… (coughs nervously) You asked for a slow burn so 7,000 words… `

PERMATAG: @burnsoslow @pedudley @mskaneko

Thank you to to the beautiful birthday girl ( @mskaneko ) for the beautiful edit in the mood board. To @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore for beta reading, and to @pedudley for reading and for the incredible mood board that closes this fic.

Alexis snuck out of the palace and called an Uber that took her to the local Irish pub in less than fifteen minutes.

The bar was a cozy place with large wooden panels, solid counters and Irish music.

She was about to sit on one of the stools when she felt someone’s eyes behind her, staring at her. She turned her head and there he was, Drake Walker sitting in a booth with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He raised his glass towards her, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat when he had seen her.

After ordering a pint, she sat next to him with her usual perky attitude. “What are you doing out of you cabin in the woods, Walker?”

He squinted at her “The real question is what are you doing here, O’Brien? Out of the palace without a guard.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to watch the match, and I’m staying. You can take me back to the palace as soon as Barcelona kicks Liverpool’s ass”

God, she was exasperating. “Of course, you would be a Barcelona’s fanatic.”

“You mean the best club in the world?” She took off her leather jacket, she was wearing the famous blue and scarlet Barcelona’s shirt.

He growled. “You can’t sit with me wearing that.”

She gave him a flirtatious look. “Would you prefer if I took it off?”

Sometimes, he swore she was actively trying to torture him. He took her chin with his fingers fixing his piercing eyes on hers.

“You don’t want to play that game with me, O’Brien.” He said in a hoarse voice.

She swallowed hard, her heart beating furiously in her chest. When he finally tore his eyes away from her, she took a long sip of beer.

After a few silent minutes, she spoke. “I can’t believe you’re actually rooting for Liverpool. They haven’t won a Champions league in thirteen years.”

He growled. “I’m so sure we’re beating Barcelona tonight, that I bought tickets for the second leg.”

She sat on the booth cross-legged hugging a cushion. “You seem awfully confident that your team, a team that hasn’t win in ages, is going to beat the best team there is.” She gave him a confident smile. “Want to bet?”

“The best team…?” He shook his head. “What do you want to bet?”

“If Barcelona wins tonight, you give me your semi-final tickets.”

He raised his hands shocked. “Are you crazy, do you know how much I paid for those tickets?”

She reached for his arm and squeezed it with a fake empathic expression on her face. “Don’t worry, Drake if I were rooting for such losers, I wouldn’t want to bet the tickets either.”

He considered her proposal for a minute, well aware that she was provoking him on purpose, but he just couldn’t back out when she was challenging him. “I’m in, but if you lose you have to get me tickets for next year’s matches. All the matches.” He saw her stunned expression, so he added irritated. “You’ll be queen next year O’Brien, it’d be easy for you to get them.”

She didn’t know why but it really bothered her that he would assume she was going to accept Liam’s proposal. She reached for his hand anyway. “Deal, Walker.”

For the next two hours they sat next to each other, drinking and bickering playfully. In the halftime he challenged her to a game of darts, she wasn’t bad at all, and she certainly looked extremely cute when she concentrated but he beat her easily, reaching 501 points in ten minutes.

However, at the end of the second half of the match, he was seriously pissed, not only he had lost his precious semi-final tickets, but he also had to put up with her cocky attitude while she celebrated Barcelona’s victory.

After a while of singing and cheering with a group of Spaniards, she came back to the table, ecstatic, and extended her hand towards him pointing at her palm. “The tickets, Walker.”

He groaned “Do you think I carry them with me all the time, O’Brien? I’ll give them to you at the palace.”

She laughed truly enjoying her victory. “So grumpy! I didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Drake. I’ll go get another pint. What are you drinking?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dalmore, fifteen years. Just tell them to put it on my tab. I come here often.”

She mimicked a fake surprise. “That’s so shocking!”

He laughed in spite of himself. She added playfully. “And Dalmore, eh? Being a veterinarian definitely pays.”

He smirked shrugging “I don’t need much, O’Brien, but I definitely need good whiskey. How do you know Dalmore?”

“My grandpa loved whiskey. Especially that one.” Her eyes watered thinking about her grandfather but she shook her head to chase the tears.

Drake saw her eyes and his heart tightened; he raised his hand to stroke her cheek, but squeezed her shoulder instead, pouring his eyes into hers to make her feel comforted without words.

It worked because she gave him a small smile, he had rolled his sleeves, so she rubbed his forearm with her fingers softly, almost tenderly, making him crazy. Why did she have to make it so fucking difficult being close to her? He stood up.

“We better leave, Obrien. It’s late and tomorrow we have to travel to Applewood.”

She didn’t want the night to end. For a minute she allowed herself to think about the life she would have had with Drake if they were a couple, if she had met him alone. If she hadn’t been so stupid to be blindsided by Liam’s charm, but when he abruptly stood up, she understood. He didn’t feel the same about her. She had to forget her stupid crush and move on.

They drove back in silence, both of them embarrassed, both of them hurt and filled with unspoken feelings.

The next day, Alexis felt much better. She had drunk too much the previous night and the alcohol had put crazy ideas in her head. It was clear that Drake only saw her as an annoying friend, so she would do the same.

Liam was different, even if the little spark that had initiated at the Statue of Liberty hadn’t become the fire she was hoping for, he was there for her. He had been clear about his feelings for her. Maybe love wasn’t the crazy passion she thought. Maybe love was calm, peaceful and reliable.

Or maybe she just needed to think for a few days, put some distance between her and that stupid competition. She thought about the football tickets she had won. She was definitely going to that semi-final, Drake, Liam and royal court be damned.

She knew Liam would be having breakfast in the main hall, so she went looking for him. She entered the hall and stopped in her tracks. Liam was having breakfast, but he wasn’t alone.

She cleared her throat. “Hi guys!”

Liam’s face lit up seeing her. “Lady Alexis. Good morning.”

Drake gestured a quick hello with his hand and turned back to reading his paper.

Mr. Polite as usual. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Li. I want to leave the court for a few days. I’m going to England for the semi-finals of the Champions league”

Liam stopped eating and looked at her puzzled. “That’s in two weeks from now, Alexis. The coronation is in less than three weeks. I would’ve expected that you wanted to be here.”

“Yes! Of course, Li. It’s only for a couple days. England is four hours away. I just want to watch the match. It’s… important for me”

Liam was uncomfortable, he didn’t want her to leave. Even if he couldn’t tell her yet, he had decided he was going to choose her as his queen. And her place was there with him not at some dumb football competition. “Where did you even get the tickets?”

Drake took his head out of the paper. “we made a bet and she won them from me.”

Liam grinned “I told you Liverpool was going to lose, Drake. You have to pick a winner’s team.” He turned to Alexis, speaking to her in a soft voice. “As a suitor and especially as the woman I care about, I-.”

Drake stood up so fast, he almost spilled his coffee. “I don’t think I should be part of this conversation.”

Liam raised his hand. “Actually, Drake, yes. Stay. I was going to say that I care very deeply about you, Alexis. I can’t let you go alone because you’re a member of the royal court, you’ll need protection. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any guards right now, but if Drake accepts, he can go with you. He has trained with Bastien plenty of times and can assure your protection.”

Drake couldn’t allow that. Last night, he had barely slept thinking about her. Two days abroad and he’d go crazy. “I can’t. I have a lot of things planned for that week, Li. I’m sorry.”

Liam squinted at him, puzzled. “You were going to go to the semi-finals anyway, that’s why you bought the tickets.”

Fuck! “Yes, but as Alexis won them, I made new appointments.” He was a terrible liar.

Alexis saw through it. “I don’t need a glorified, grumpy baby-sitter, Liam. Thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry, Alexis, but you’re under the crown’s protection until the end of the Social season. I can’t let you go without a guard; it would be terribly irresponsible from me.” He had made up his mind, and she had to start to get used to the fact that a future queen had responsibilities and responded to him.

Alexis was fuming, she was seriously considering quitting her role as a suitor when Drake spoke seeing how much she wanted to go. “It’s fine, I’ll go with her.” He smirked at her “In exchange of the other ticket.”

Liam started to regret his offer. “I really think it’s better if you stay here, lady Alexis.”

She shook her head. She was going to go, no matter what and as she didn’t need the second ticket anyway, she accepted, strangely happy. “The second ticket is yours, Drake! I have to go get ready to bake an apple pie for the competition.” Before leaving the room, she turned to grin at Drake. “And thank you.” He felt his heart warming up with her smile.

After breakfast, Drake went to the stables. He needed a good day of intense work to forget the stupidest deal he had ever accepted.

It was already difficult to be around her and pretend to be only her friend when they were surrounded by the other suitors and the madness of the social season. Now, he was going to have her all for himself for two days. He shook his head at his own stupidity. She wasn’t there for him and she never would be. She was there vying for Liam’s hand. Liam, his best friend the king. The same man offering her a whole kingdom.

The truth was that Drake had never been jealous of Liam before. He had a good life, a life he enjoyed. He was passionate about his job and excelled at it. He was free to go fishing, hiking or drink a whiskey in a pub whenever he wanted. It was a life that he had been able to choose for himself unlike Liam who would have to lead the imposed life of a king. So, no, he had never been jealous of his best friend before Alexis O’Brien had arrived in the court. And now, every time Liam so much as looked at her, he wanted to punch him in the face. He definitely shouldn’t have accepted to take her to Liverpool.

Shaking his head, he put on his white coat and his rubber boots and went to check up on Mirabelle.

The next few days he tried to avoid her as much as he could, he had convinced himself that he only needed a little distance, a little space and whatever he was feeling, would naturally go away and they would be able to go together to Liverpool as friends.

A few nights before leaving, he saw her coming out of the palace and walk towards the maze only dressed in a big sweater and some sort of pajama shorts. He debated with himself, but in an impulse, he decided to go after her, just to make sure she was fine.

When he approached the center of the maze, he saw her, and his heart tugged. She was sitting on a bench with her knees up, her head buried in them, clearly crying. He sat next to her, and silently rubbed her back, soothing her. Slowly her sobs stopped, he leaned towards her and cupped her face turning her face to him.

“Do you want to talk about it, Lexie?”

Her heart jumped in her chest. He had never called her anything else besides O’Brien before. She knew she could open up to him. “My grandfather, Noah, died exactly one year ago of a heart attack. I really miss him.”

“I’m sorry, O’Brien” his heart broke seeing her so sad “Come here.” He opened his arms and she snuggled against him.

“He and granny practically raised me. He arrived in the States when he was twenty-two years old, but he never lost his accent” She smiled. “He used to call me his little ‘stor’. It means treasure in Irish... He’s …was the bravest man, I’ve ever met.”

He smiled down at her and brushed her cheek with his thumb to wipe a falling tear. “And most importantly he loved Dalmore whiskey.”

She laughed through her tears. “Yes, almost as much as he loved granny. His dream was to come back to Dublin with me and show me Trinity College where he went to school. He said that I would love the library there.” She brushed another tear. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Shh, I got you, it’s okay. It’s okay, O’Brien” He hugged her tighter “You never have to apologize to me for how you feel.” He had never held her so closely. Her cherry scent was intoxicating, “I always be here for you. I promise.”

She looked at him hurt. “Like you had been these past weeks?”

He shook his head. “I’m just giving you and Liam some space, O’Brien. We’re only friends and he deserves you”

She stood up trembling with fury. “I’m not a fucking prize either of you gets because you deserve it. Don’t you want to be with me?” He didn’t answer, so she insisted. “I think you feel something for me, Drake.” She waited for an answer that never came, he couldn’t tell her anything without betraying his best friend, plus, she was sad and confused and he wasn’t going to take advantage of it. “Got it. See you at the plane. Good night.” She stormed out leaving Drake more confused than ever.

Three days later, they were ready to leave for Liverpool, Liam had insisted in lending them his private plane so they could come back directly after the match. He wanted her back fast. Drake had required to leave for Liverpool one day earlier because he had business to attend at Kentwood stables, one of Liam’s horse dealers in England.

Alexis installed herself in one of the leather seats when she saw Drake talk to the pilot.

“What was that about, Drake?”

He shrugged “I have no idea what you’re talking about, O’Brien.” He took out a deck of cards from his bag. “Poker?” He wiggled his eyebrows adorably.

She grinned mischievously. “If you don’t mind losing.”

He observed her expression and smirked, she seemed relaxed and happy as he hadn’t seen in her for a long time.

They played the whole flight to Liverpool, teasing each other, Drake was great at poker, but Alexis used to play all the time in college, so they won two games each.

He smiled cockily. “Don’t worry, O’Brien. I’ll beat you later, I was just warming up”

She rolled her eyes playfully “Yeah, suuure.”

When they got off the plane, she saw Drake talking to the pilot again. She waited with her bag for a car to pick them up from the private tarmac, but Drake shook his head.

“Come on, O’Brien. We need to catch a bus to go to the city center.”

She was happy to do something normal for once, but it was unusual. “No car to pick us up?”

He beamed, he didn’t do it often but when he did he looked so handsome it actually made her knees weak. “Not today, come on”

She followed him through the terminal, not paying much attention. When they exited the building, she turned her head and saw a big sign on the top the airport:

“Welcome to Dublin”

She stopped in her tracks, incapable to move for a second. Drake stood next to her waiting for her reaction.

When she finally spoke, she had a small lump in her throat. “How did you do? I- d” Without thinking about it, she threw her arms around his neck pulling him for a hug. He pulled her against him too, allowing himself to enjoy a few seconds of closeness with her, inhaling her shampoo, feeling her against him. When she pulled away her eyes were brighter than usual “Thank you Drake.”

His raised his hands. “Hey, I have entirely selfish motives. A friend told me about this distillery where they supposedly have great whiskey.”

They went to the B&B where Drake had booked two rooms, a cozy, small place called The Blackrock. It was perfect, the lobby was full of books with a lit fireplace and the lady at the reception was warm and kind.

Before leaving, Alexis decided to change her clothes, she had woken up too early and had lazily thrown a pair of jeans and Converses on.

It was a sunny day in May, but they were in Dublin and it was relatively cold. She decided to wear a red, short sweater dress with a V neck, a pair of tights and her Doc Martens. She put on some black eyeliner, a touch of gloss, and sprayed her Lost Cherry perfume, on her wrists and neck. She felt giddy and nervous to spend the day with him. After a last look in the mirror she took her leather jacket and went downstairs.

She waited at the lobby sitting next to the fireplace, Drake had told her that he needed to make some calls to the Veterinary clinic at the Palace. It made her smile how much he loved his job. How much he cared about it.

Drake saw her as soon as he came down the stairs but waited for her to see him, before announcing himself. At the risk of sounding like a stalker, he wanted to watch her for a few seconds, he spent so much time trying to hide whatever it was she stirred up in him that he never let himself just admire her. She was incredibly beautiful, but it was the energy she irradiated that made his heart stop every time he looked at her. He shook his head; he was quickly approaching a very dangerous territory.

He cleared his throat “I see you’re warming up by the fire.”

She grinned. A true smile, just for him. “I was waiting for you, but I’m ready to go. Do you have anything planned?”

He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I have some things in mind. Do you trust me?”

She couldn’t help the earnest look in her eyes, when she answered. “Totally.”

They decided to walk, it was a long stroll, but they wanted to make the most of their time there. She pulled her camera out of her huge handbag and took pictures of everything she could. She loved the vibe of the city open and colorful. Everyone seemed relaxed and stress free. Even Drake. She succeeded to take two shots of him when he wasn’t looking.

He knew he only had two days with her. He was trying really hard to keep his thoughts at bay but just the way she looked at everything and the joy she transpired while they explored the city was enough to make him forget his good resolutions.

He remembered the conversation he had had with Liam the day before. They had been drinking at his office when Liam had suddenly told him that he regretted having authorized the trip.

“What do you mean?

“I thought you were my friend, and maybe you still are, but I saw you in the maze last night, Drake. You were holding her.” Seeing that his friend was about to talk, he raised his hand “Just remember who she belongs to.”

Drake felt a rush of anger, his fists immediately balling. “She doesn’t belong to anyone, Liam. She can do whatever she wants. Last night she was sad, that’s all.”

“It may be, but just in case, remember that she’s here for me. She deserves the world, she deserves to be a queen, Drake. My queen.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Liam was right, she deserved the world and more, so he’d have to settle with being his friend.

They had been walking more than an hour, when they saw an imposing grey building. She screamed with excitement, recognizing it immediately. Her grandfather had showed her hundreds of pictures of it while he talked about his younger years in Dublin.

He was touched to see her eyes watering at its sight but didn’t dare to do anything else but stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Aww, O’Brien. Come on, let’s see that library”

They were both amazed as soon as they entered the famous Long Room. It was majestic. The sight was imposing, high wooden ceilings and walls, millions of ancient books covering the shelves, and infinite rows of marble busts honoring the greatest writers and philosophers of history.

They looked together for Jonathan Swift, Noah’s favorite writer, while Alexis told him anecdotes of her childhood, and how he used to read her ‘Gulliver’s travels’ before bed. She seemed nostalgic but happy to remember him.

“He was a great man, O’Brien. And even if I didn’t know him, I’m sure he would be very proud of you.”

She sighed. “I don’t know… I think he definitely would’ve disapproved of the idea of me competing for a prince’s hand.”

Drake looked at her intently trying to figure out how she felt about it, he knew she was in love with Liam, but at the same time he couldn’t deny that there was something else going on between the two of them, something undefined and powerful.

After seeing the Book of Kells, they spent the rest of the day exploring the city. They took pictures next to Molly Malone, ordered a Fish and chips at Presto’s, and got lost in the Jaime’s Joyce museum.

Alexis bought a colorful painting portraying the famous Dublin doors, and Drake got his wish of visiting the Roe & Coe Distillery where he felt like a little boy in a candy store. It was a perfect day. Both of them yearned for it to last, but neither of them took a step towards the other.

They want out of the distillery slightly drunk, laughing like crazy. “Last stop ‘The workman’s bar’, O’Brien. Maxwell recommended it.” He grinned, she had never seen him so happy, so relaxed. What she’do to kiss those dimples. “I’m dying to show you the Temple Bar area. Come on!” He added when he saw she was lost in her thoughts.

The pub was packed, they had trouble finding a table but after a few minutes they found one close to the stage.

He asked for their drinks, two double whiskeys. She gulped hers.

“Easy O’Brien, this is not a competition” He beamed, again, she was almost getting used to it.

She looked at him with fire in her eyes. “I can do whatever I want tonight. And I want to drink. Oh, I know! Let’s play a drinking game!” She beamed.

“You want to play a drinking game, against me O’Brien?” He arched his brows “Are you sure?”

She gave him a devilishly smile, just what he needed to go insane. “I’m not playing, Walker, I’m winning”

He chuckled “You’re such a cocky ass. Let’s see that” His phone rang, it was the clinic. “Just a sec, O’Brien. I’ll take this outside.”

When he came back, he saw her talking with one of the guys from the table next to hers. He cut the distance between them as fast as he could. When the guy saw Drake sit next to her clearly angry, he babbled a quick good night and left as fast as he could.

She witnessed his behavior extremely annoyed. He had been clear, he only wanted to be her friend. So why did he behave like that?

“What the fuck, Drake? Why are you so angry?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Are you jealous?”

He was tired too, tired of wanting her so badly, tired of months watching her from the distance, tired of pretending he felt nothing for her, when he couldn’t think about anything else. He fixed his eyes on her. “Like crazy.”

She leaned to kiss him, but Liam was in there, present between the two of them. He cupped her face. “We can’t O’Brien. You love him, I know that.”

She shook her head. How was it possible that someone that knew her so perfectly well, that could almost see through her soul was so incapable of reading her true feelings. “Forget it, Drake. It’s fine.”

He heard the hurt in her voice and started to wonder if maybe, only maybe, she felt…something for him.

They sat in silence until someone stood up on the stage and began to sing ‘Hey, Jude’ with a voice way off key.

“Fucking Maxwell, he recommeneded a karaoke bar!” He groaned but after a few more seconds of the singer torturing The Beatles they burst into laughs easing the tension. They played several games and talked about their childhoods and years of college. After several singers, the host of the evening called Alexis’s name.

She chuckled at his puzzled expression. “I wrote my name in the list when I went to the bathroom.” She stood up and went to the stage.

For the hundredth time that day, his mouth went dry just looking at her. She was so incredibly sexy that he couldn’t think straight. The red of her dress illuminated her face, making her black eyes darker, her full lips irresistible. The dress wasn’t tight but it was short so he could admire her long legs and thanks to the V neck, part of her cleavage. He was sure no one at that pub had seen anyone more beautiful or sexy than her. He smirked when the song started. She had chosen Marvin Gaye by Charlie Puth.

She began to slowly sway her hips with the rhythm of the song and started singing. He shook his head; Not only was she softly dancing, which was enough to push him over the edge, but he had heard her sing before and knew he was doomed. She had a low voice, sultry, soft. Like a moan.

We got this king size to ourselves

Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's karma sutra show and tell

She was slowly moving her hips and looking at him fixedly as she sang. He stared back, his black eyes looking at her so intently she felt like she was going to combust. He leaned against his seat, with the tumbler in his hand, licking his lips, savoring the moment as much as she was, letting his eyes tell her all the things he wanted to do to her.

You got to give it up to me

I'm screaming mercy, mercy please Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

She had chosen that song on purpose. Every time he heard her sing for mercy, he felt a twitch in his pants. Every time she moved her hips asking him to get lost with her until dawn, he was tempted to go on stage, take her and fuck her right there in the bathroom.

The applause took him out of his trance. He saw her approaching the table where they were seated. Fuck, he didn’t give a damn anymore, he wanted her, painfully, agonizingly. He left the money for the drinks on the table and intercepted her on her way to the table. He gripped her hand and led her outside. He had called an Uber but they had to wait for it. Except that Drake couldn’t wait another moment, he pressed her against the first wall he found and leaned towards her; whispering in her ear. “What are you doing, O’Brien? I told you not to play those games with me.”

She smiled biting her lip, and then shrugged “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He growled burying his nose in her neck, softly smelling her cherry scent; making her shiver “Fuck! You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Her heart couldn’t have beat faster. She felt like it was going to go out of her chest.

He fixed his eyes on her “If you want to scream for mercy, Lexie” He brushed her neck with his fingers, as his other hand stroked the small of her back and he kissed her earlobe. “I’ll make you scream all night.”

She was physically incapable to form words, so she nodded. A nod. All it took was soft movement of her head and hell broke loose. He placed his hand on her back and pulled her against him crashing his mouth with hers, caressing her face. He nipped her lips and let his hands wander through her body, desperate, impatient.

They arrived at her room fifteen minutes later, after a painfully long Uber ride.

She tried to open the door, but Drake was behind her, his arm around her waist, his lips on the nape of his neck. “Drake, god!”

Finally, she opened the door, and they almost stumbled inside. He was still behind her, still ravaging her neck. He took her by her waist and in easy movement turned her face to him kissing her lips again. They were better than he had imagined, with a sweet taste, soft and tender at his contact. He scooped her in his arms and took her to the bed. He stopped for a second to look at her. His goddess, gorgeous, with swollen lips and messy hair.

He smiled down on her “Are you sure you want this, O’Brien?” She nodded, lost in the sandalwood.

“I didn’t hear anything, Lexie”

“Yes, I’m sure” she panted.

He locked eyes with her as he put a strand of hair behind her ear “You better be, because if I make you mine tonight, I’ll never let you go again.” She nodded again, grabbing the back of his head to crash their lips again.

They took each other's clothes in desperate movements. “Fuck, Alexis you’re so damn gorgeous.”

He grabbed her from her waist and sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap. She straddled him as his passionate kisses made her crazy. She threw her head back giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped kissing the spot where her jaw and neck connected, his thumbs slowly teasing her hard nipples. She moaned loudly.

“Drake, please”

Drake smiled against her neck “Are you asking for mercy, Lexie?” His question was joined by the movement of his right hand wandering through her body producing jolts of electricity everywhere he touched her, until he finally reached her core. He stroked her skin enjoying how soft she was, before circling the little nub inside of her with his thumb.

Drake growled “Fuck, Lexie, you’re so wet for me” He kept teasing her, touching everything bit of skin around her clit.

“God, Drake, you’re driving me crazy, please…” Drake’s finger suddenly entering her, not letting her finish.

“Is this what you want, Lexie?” He whispered to her ear. She nodded lazily too excited to answer. “Come for me” He slid another finger inside making her writhe against him, her breaths becoming shorter, and shorter as she clung to Drake’s back.

“Drake, I…I god Drake fuck!” She screamed when a powerful wave of heat ran across her body leaving her wasted.

Drake steadied her with his arms, stroking her back. He kissed the top of her head giving her time to recover.

“Fuck me, Drake”

He buried his mouth in her hair. “I told you I was going to make you scream for mercy.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick rubbing her center “Look at me, O’Brien. I want to see your pretty face as I enter you”

She gasped and locked her eyes with him, her hands around his neck, his gaze piercing hers, as he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

He growled again biting her shoulder. “Damn, Lexie you feel incredible baby, so fucking tight”

Drake didn’t know at what moment, but the energy of the room had shifted. He felt much more than a powerful lust for her. He wanted to have her, all of her, forever. They rocked their hips at the same pace, slowly at first but sooner increasing speed staring at each other as their movements became more passionate. He kissed her lips deeply, lost in her. They both felt a connection like neither of them had experienced before. He hit her spot several times making her moan his name over and over again. Without taking his eyes off of her, he stroked her clit as they both reached a point of no return.

“Drake!” She screamed his name yet again, as her muscles compressed around him. Feeling her come screaming his name pushed him over the edge, and he filled her completely.

They fell down on the bed, spent. He pulled her close to him and kissed her front.

“Are you staying?” His heart tugged at the vulnerability of her soft voice.

“If you want me to stay, O’Brien. I’ll never leave again.” She smiled against his chest as they both drifted to sleep, only to woke up a few hours later and made love again.

The morning light woke her up. He was hugging her tightly against him, with his chin on her shoulder, his breath in her ear. She had never felt safer or happier before, until a horrible thought crept into her head. What if he didn’t want her anymore? What if he decided again that she belonged with Liam?

She felt him move behind her. Maybe she should be casual about it, but she had no idea of how she would be able to do that. There was nothing casual about the way they had made love the night before. The expression was cheesy but it fit perfectly. The connection between them was deep and explosive.

His raspy voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Hi.”

She turned to face him and her heart skipped a beat when she saw his smile and the soft expression on his eyes. “Hi.”

Lucky. That was how Drake had felt that morning when he had opened his eyes. Like the luckiest bastard in the world. She was cuddled against him, bare and exposed to him, he could hear her soft breaths, smell her delicate scent. After all the reservations he had had, and the torment of thinking she loved Liam, he was elated to be with her that morning. He didn’t doubt anymore, not after the way she had given herself to him the previous night. He felt she was awake and whispered a soft hi in her ear. When she turned to him, he couldn’t control himself much longer. He had to make her his again.

After spending the morning making love, they took a shower together and got ready for Liverpool. Neither of them dared to talk about the future, unwilling to break their little bubble with practical matters or with Liam’s name.

They took the Ferry at Holyhead and arrived at Liverpool at 6:20, just in time to grab a little something to eat and go to Anfield Stadium.

The atmosphere was intense. Liverpool’s and Barca’s flags flooded the streets, mixed with chants in English and Spanish everywhere. It was electric.

Once at their gate, they had to wait in line to enter because security was checking people’s bags. Drake turned to watch Alexis’s face, she was almost jumping with exhilaration and a warm feeling spread all over his chest. He smiled to himself, never in his wildest dreams he could’ve anticipated coming there with her. He moved behind her and looped his arms around her waist protectively, there were too many people, too much excitement, she could easily get hurt.

They located their seats and Drake left to get a couple of drinks. He shook his head amused when he came back, she had taken her jumper off revealing her Barca’s shirt, a blue spot in a sea of red.

“Do you have a death wish, O’Brien?” He chuckled.

“It’s not my fault I have good taste” She shrugged.

“Come here” He cupped her face and kissed her softly, seriously considering the idea of skipping the match and taking her to a hotel room in Liverpool. “You have no idea how much I want you all time, Lexie.”

She smiled and kissed him too, overwhelmed by all the things she was feeling.

“Have you ever come to a Liverpool’s match before?”

She shook her head no. “It’s the first time.”

“Prepare yourself, everybody talks about the emotions of Liverpool's supporters, but it’s really something else when you see it in person.”

She opened her big eyes wide. “Are you telling me that the dark and brooding Drake Walker is capable of enjoying displays of emotion?”

He chuckled. “You’re a pain in the ass, O’Brien. You know that, don’t you?” He pushed aside the hair from her face and kissed her.

He was right; Liverpool supporter’s emotions were all over the place. They sang their hymn wholeheartedly, but it was when the first notes of ‘You’ll never walk alone’ played on the speakers that goosebumps appeared all over her arms. Every single person around her was singing passionately, pouring all their hearts on the song. One single voice for more than forty thousand supporters cheering for the players entering the field.

“Ready to lose, Walker?”

“Lose? Prepare for the greatest come back in the history of football, O’Brien”

She laughed cockily. “Love your optimist side, Drake. We’re three points ahead”

The referee blew the whistle announcing the beginning of the game.

Drake and Alexis were equally excited yelling instructions at their respective teams in a mix of English and Spanish.

At the seventh minute, Drake yelled emphatically as Origi scored the first goal. "Yes! Let's go!”

Alexis was fuming screaming in Spanish to the goalkeeper. “¡Pinche Stergen! ¡Muévete carajo!”.

He couldn’t believe how adorable she looked when she was that angry. He teased her in the hope to infuriate her even more. “That’s one, O’Brien, we have at least three more to go.” He said matter-of-factly, clearly enjoying the fire in her eyes.

The rest of the first half-time passed uneventfully, with no more goals of either team.

“You’re not so cocky now, are you, Walker?”

He groaned. “We still have a second time to go, O’Brien, don’t count your chickens just yet”

She smiled cockily, only a miracle could save Liverpool at that point. However, sixteen minutes after the whistle for the second time, the miracle happened when Wijnaldum scored two goals in a two-minute interval.

Twenty-three minutes later Origi nailed the final nail in the coffin scoring an historical goal, eliminating Barcelona from the competition.

Alexis screamed furiously at Stergen, Piqué and the rest of the team. Drake stopped his celebration for a minute to watch her as she jumped on her seat screaming. Her energy was exciting, contagious. There in the middle of a football match after the most incredible night of his life, he realized something he knew for a long time now, but that he hadn’t dared to accept before. He grabbed her by her waist taking her down off of her seat. She used the momentum to straddle him and kiss his lips passionately, as his hands wandered along her back sending electricity everywhere. When he parted, he cupped her face, an earnest look in his chocolate eyes.

“I love you, Lexie. I’m completely crazy about you”

God, she loved him so much that his words touched her profoundly. She cleared her throat and fixed her dark eyes on him. “I love you too, Drake. With everything in me.”

He crashed her mouth with hers again in the middle of the cheers and ovations of the Liverpool supporters.

“We’re definitely not going back to Cordonia tonight.”